A Cold Night in Hell
by Tobias Umbra
Summary: In this sequel to "A Great Day to Die", Fox McCloud tries to put his team and his life back together and Wolf starts to question his choices as both become tangled in a web of intrigue surrounding a long-lost battleship and a vigilante known as "Kursed"
1. Prologue: Dreams and Hard Realities

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Holy shit. I never thought I'd actually get to the point in my life where I'd write this story. So much has changed for me since I wrote "War Stories" that I'm hardly the same person anymore. So I suppose that's as good a reason as any for me to finally return to the Lylat System and advance the stories of Fox and Wolf for you all in my long-stalled sequel to my original story "A Great Day To Die". Here we finally see how Lylat has changed since the Lylat Wars, in many ways for the worse, and we also see a much more mature, cynical Fox, no longer as idealistic as he once was as he attempts to rebuild his life. For you new readers: Go back and at least read "A Great Day To Die". Seriously. It's a pretty short read. And you'll understand so much more if you read "Cubs" and "War Stories" as well. And, standard operating procedure: This story is going to be knee-deep in profanity, violence, and some sexuality and drug use. Don't say I didn't warn you. But you'll enjoy it. I guess there's no better way to really begin this but to dive right in and save my comments for later. Enjoy and review, guys. It's nice to be back.

* * *

-**Dreams and Hard Realities-**

It didn't rain often in Corneria City. The weather satellites that weakly influenced the planet's climate directed most of the rainfall to the agricultural regions in the countryside, ensuring that the megacities of Corneria enjoyed clear skies for the most part. In order to prevent it from suffering a full-on drought, however, the city was scheduled for a period of rainfall every two months in which the heavens opened up and a monsoon-like deluge fell upon the metropolis. This was one of those days.

The polished white buildings and silvery grey spires of the city were dulled by the monochromatic clouds and heavy rainfall that splashed onto the windshields of every skycar that flowed through the congested airlanes. Even the lit-up, flashing holographic advertisements and news ticker displays of Inari Square were little more than colored ghosts through the haze. Buffeting the downpour amongst the super-modern and rounded skyscrapers was the comparatively squat, fortress-like form of Powerscourt Palace, shrugging rain off of its sand-colored stone walls and metal bastions. Among the oldest buildings in Corneria City, Powerscourt was the seat of The Most Noble and Righteous Parliament of Corneria and Her Commonwealth Worlds, the bicameral houses of Parliament that had governed the Cornerian Commonwealth for more than two hundred and forty years. Though the building itself was nearly six hundred years old, predating the invention of modern blasters, AI networking and deflector shields, no expense had been spared in keeping Powerscourt as modern as possible without replacing the building entirely. Thus holograms, deflector shield generators and interactive computer networks interspersed throughout the building mingled in a somewhat contradicting manner with the ancient stone walls and hand-carved wooden doorways that seemed more appropriate to a museum. In the first basement level below the cavernous rotunda that could host a session of both the House of Commons and the House of Consuls, a squad of Corneria City Metro Police officers stood at attention outside a pair of large doors. As if this wasn't enough security, a pair of Chang Robotics Enterprises CY-500 police droids stood guard, armed with Cornerian ArmsCor EX-3 blaster rifles. On the small holoscreen next to the doors were the words: **3:00: Special Meeting of the Parliamentary Appropriations Subcommittee on Defense**.

Though regular meetings of the Defense Subcommittee were always closed to the public and of a highly sensitive nature, the extra security was due to the fact that some of the most powerful players in the Commonwealth's executive branch were in attendance.

Inside the dim conference room, the fifteen representatives from the House of Commons and the four representatives from the House of Consuls sat at the outsides of a sloping long table shaped like a large letter C. A single seat at the end was missing, for Justice Keith Williamson, a ram in the House of Consuls who was undergoing doloxan treatments for lung cancer. Sitting at the middle position of the table was a young, attractive yellow Labrador in a well-fitted navy blue suit with a matching tie and a cream-colored shirt. At thirty four years old, Robert Fitzroy was the youngest person ever to be elected Prime Minister of the Cornerian Commonwealth. He'd only served two terms as a Member of Parliament before being selected to lead the Labor Party, and had been more known at the time for dating actresses and supermodels and being named the "Best Dressed Politician in Lylat" by _Chic_ holozine. Many assumed that Robert Fitzroy was going to be a puppet for the Labor Party at best, a political pushover at worst when he was first selected. Fitzroy enjoyed proving those people wrong. He found his strongest issues were the public's concern with crime and the military, which was his primary reason for personally overseeing this special meeting of the Defense Subcommittee. He looked down to a long straight table in the space made by the curving committee table, where nonelected members of the government and of the Ministry of Defense sat. Each had been called to give their voice to the committee which would, in essence, determine the future budget and the roles of the Cornerian Defense Force and the Cornerian Army as well as the Commonwealth Security Bureau.

"Your Grace, I'd like to once more voice my opinion on the proposal for a CSB starfleet. It's an issue that, clearly, needs to be resolved," a hoarse voice from the contributor's table called, breaking the silence.

"The committee has not yet recognized you, General Hare," The Subcommittee Chairman clipped sternly with his beak.

Fitzroy looked over to the middle-aged leporid in the red officer's uniform standing up at his seat. Even with the addition of eyeglasses and somewhat bushy facial fur, General Peppy Hare still bore great resemblance to the revered Lieutenant Commander of Team StarFox that he used to be. The respect he commanded as General of the Armed Forces was almost as great as his predecessor, George Pepper, though many agreed that he would never escape the StarFox shadow. Fitzroy couldn't really remember the last time he'd heard of StarFox in more than a year. He had to wonder if they were still around.

"That's fine, Mr. Chairman, we can begin here," Fitzroy said smoothly and with a nod, looking over to the Defense Subcommittee Chairman, an avian with yellow plumage.

After a moment of pause, the Chairman responded, "Yes, your Grace. The chair recognizes the General of the Armed Forces."

"If we're going to re-open this discussion, General Hare, I think we need to hear something from _you_, first," the Prime Minister began. He almost lost focus when two stenography droids hovering above the table nearly collided, but soon returned to his question, "Do your objections on this issue come from a legitimate strategic concern? Or is it just because the ships for this CSB fleet will, of course, be taken from the starfleets of the Army and Defense Force?"

"I think _both _of those facts represent a problem, your Grace, so I object on both counts," Peppy Hare answered.

Robert Fitzroy gave a bemused smile.

"Well, lets hear your basis, General," Fitzroy sighed.

"First off, I think downsizing the Starfleet for _any_ reason is a mistake at this time," General Hare explained, "The Aparoid Invasion was only a year ago, and we're still rebuilding and recovering from that. The Lylat War was just a decade ago, and I don't think this is any reason to--"

"And who would we fight, General? Who would you propose?" Fitzroy interjected with a raised canine ear, "Andross is dead. Venom is still under Cornerian control. The Venomian Remnant is a…joke hiding out around Fortuna with barely enough ships to cause disruption, let alone threaten the Commonwealth. The Aparoids are extinct. And we're at a very stable peace with both Macbeth and Fortuna. Meanwhile, the cost of rebuilding the Starfleet to pre-Aparoid proportions would be... _astronomical_, General. The loss of the ships required to build up a CSB-controlled fleet wouldn't harm the ability of the Army and the Defense Force to protect us from... whatever interstellar threat just happens to come out of nowhere. The Army's _still _getting that new _Ajax_-class battlecarrier. And in the event that the impossible happens, those ships can always be _returned_ to your control, General."

"Your Grace, this goes back to the concerns that General Pepper and now _I _have about how the CSB has changed since the Lylat War," General Hare persisted, "The safety of interstellar commerce and travel has been the responsibility of the Army and Defense Force for hundreds of years."

"General Hare, the military has _always _failed at taking care of both internal and external security in space. It's just too big of a job. That's why we felt like we _needed_ to rely on privateers like your StarFox Team to pick up the slack. The people are tired of both. They don't like being policed by the military or having to _pay _someone to do a job that their government can't. That's why the CSB has changed, General, because _times _have changed."

"With all due respect," General Hare said, clearly struggling to be civil, "There's a _reason _the CSB has always been under the control of the General of the Armed Forces, because intelligence-gathering has always gone hand-in-hand with the role of the Army. It was one thing to make the CSB independent from the Army. It's going even farther to give them their own space power."

"Alright, I think we need an additional perspective on this. I'd like to recognize the Director of the Commonwealth Security Bureau," one of the committee members voiced.

"I agree, the chair recognizes Director Gillian Morrow," the Chairman nodded.

From the other end of the contributor's table rose a thin, middle-aged female arctic wolf. She wore a black pantsuit with an orange blouse, which caused her snow-white fur to stand out brilliantly and vaguely showed off a toned body shape more akin to a much younger female. Most notable were her eyes: a pair of bright yellow orbs that stared out coolly at the world around her.

"Director Morrow, please reiterate for General Hare what we have determined to be the greatest threats to Commonwealth security," Fitzroy inquired.

"According to our analysts, the greatest threats include the rapidly-expanding drug trade, especially the markets of Substance D, synthetic hypersteroids and cotamine. Organized crime is on the rise, along with the prevalence of political subversives and terrorist groups, most of which recieve a great deal of profit from drug trafficking. Piracy remains a threat, but it's been overshadowed by the previous three," Gillian Morrow responded frigidly, "In each case, we've determined that the Army is insufficient to fight these threats."

"Which is exactly why the CSB and Director Morrow report directly to me now instead of you, General Hare," Fitzroy informed, "The Army was made to fight our enemies, not stop drugs and organized crime. It can't really even stop piracy that well. An independent Commonwealth Security Bureau with its own fleet is what we need to fight the war on crime and drugs."

"Your Grace, I understand the need to take care of these problems," General Hare responded, "But we're treading on dangerous ground here. From what _I've_ seen, Director Morrow seems intent on _spying _on our own citizens to get the results that are expected of her."

"With all due respect General Hare, if our citizens have nothing to hide, then they have nothing to _worry _about," Morrow shrugged.

"I beg to differ, Director Morrow," General Hare replied with narrowed eyes, "That sounded like something _Andross_ would've said."

"We're not going to tolerate mudslinging in here, General," Fitzroy chided, growing bored, "There's a different kind of war out there, and the Army isn't equipped to fight it. The CSB is. And regardless of your reservations, that's how things are going to happen. The proposal for the CSB task group remains on the docket. Let's move on."

* * *

Krystal never left him. Not really.

She wasn't physically there, of course, not in any material way.

But still, Krystal lingered in his mind, in his dreams and his memories. It got to the point where something seemingly inconsequential would almost affect his senses. The touch of the sheets in his quarters would remind him of her soft fur, and suddenly Fox could almost smell her. He would be in the hangar bay of the _Great Fox_, looking at the disused Arwing that had once belonged to her, and out of the corner of his eye he would see her suiting up. It was like she was just in the next room, just out of sight. Just out of reach.

That somehow made it worse for Fox McCloud, feeling that she was still there somehow but knowing that she was gone because of what he'd done, how he treated her on that night.

He could still see her in that bar in Anaxes. He couldn't even remember the name of the place.

She was talking and laughing with the rest of them, sitting next to Slippy while Peppy and Falco were at the other side of the table.

"Heyyyy, sugartits!!" Falco called abrasively, "How 'bout some more shots for tha' champions of tha' universe?!"

"I have a name," the feline waitress snapped from across the room.

"Well keep it to ya'self 'n gimme my drinks, honey!" Falco shot back.

"I think you've had a bit too much, Falco," Krystal giggled softly.

"I agree," Peppy grimaced disapprovingly.

"An' I don't think either of ya' have had enough! Whaddaya say ta' that?!" Falco shrugged.

Fox remembered where he had been standing: near the doorway to the bar, watching them enjoy themselves and unable to do the same because of what was going through his head. There could've been a hundred things speeding through his mind at that moment that might've prevented him from being so stupid. He could've been thinking about how much he'd have to fight with the Cornerian military and the insurance companies to get enough money to buy another _Dreadnaught_-class space cruiser to replace the _Great Fox_ after Peppy and ROB rammed it into the Aparoid home world. He could've been thinking about how he'd pay for it without draining the once-enormous trust fund that had been handed down from Fox's grandfather to his father to him, in the likely case that the government couldn't afford to pay them enough with the costs of rebuilding parts of Corneria City and the decimated Cornerian Starfleet. He could've been thinking about whether or not it was selfish to ask Peppy to stay on the team instead of retiring like he'd talked about doing.

Had he been thinking about any of these things, he might've had the wisdom to ask for someone else's advice on what he was about to do. Or he might've eventually realized how much he really did love Krystal before it was too late.

Instead, all he was thinking about was how much it would hurt to watch her die, like he'd almost seen several times in their fight against the Aparoids. And somehow, it seemed like a better idea to just keep her caged up and safe.

She lifted her head and those turquoise angel-eyes froze him in place. For a moment, Fox wondered if she knew what he was going to ask of her. Then time sped back up and she gave him a soft, loving smile from across the room. She had no idea.

Why would she?

His feet felt like blocks of ferroconcrete as he walked towards the table, as if the rest of the bar didn't even exist.

"Foxie!!" Falco called jovially, "Have a seat! I'm orderin' shots! I wanna…give a toast ya' know, ta' Wolfie n' his team for helpin' out. Or…at least ta' their _memories_, iffff… they're all dead n' stuff. Did we eva' find out about that?"

Peppy and Slippy looked at each other for a moment, then Peppy bluntly replied, "No."

Ignoring them all, Fox looked over at Krystal, who was still smiling. He couldn't really look her in the eye.

"Can we talk outside?" Fox mumbled awkwardly.

The smile dropped from her face, replaced by a look of slight confusion.

"Sure," Krystal nodded politely, sliding out of her seat.

There was a part of him that wanted to reach for her hand. She wouldn't have stopped him if he had. But he didn't.

They exited the bar onto a skybridge between the building that the bar was located in and the adjoining structure. Beyond the durasteel railing stretched the glass towers and mile-high skyscrapers of Anaxes with its glittering lights and its bustling lanes of air traffic. As they stepped a few feet out onto the skybridge, Krystal looked left and right, making sure no one else was around.

"Oh, I can't wait to get somewhere private," she smiled, "Feels like it's been _months _since I've had you all to myself."

Then without warning she put a warm hand to his face and softly pressed her lips to his. She was soft, almost like she wasn't there. Fox didn't kiss her back, even though he wanted to.

After a moment, Krystal pulled back and looked him in the eye. He found it hard to meet her gaze.

"Fox, what's wrong?" Krystal inquired with concern.

"I've been thinking about some things. About you and me," Fox murmured.

"What about you and me?" she probed softly, smiling with her eyes.

"It's…hard for me to care about someone. Like, _really_ care about someone," Fox forced out with difficulty, "You know I lost both of my parents…so…"

"I know," Krystal spoke softly, returning her hand to his face, "You get numb inside after losing what feels like your world. I know how it feels."

Fox sniffed and willed himself to continue, "It's easy for me to be close to Slippy and Peppy because they've been around so long. It's like they're my family. Even Falco and I didn't get that close until after the war, and when he left and came back we kind of had to build it back up. But…you… you're different."

Krystal smiled.

"Go on," she said, as if expecting him to say something good.

Something in Fox's chest began to physically hurt.

"I care about you, Krystal. A lot. I—I've _never_ felt about someone the way I do about you," Fox whispered, looking down at the ground, "It _scares_ me how much I care about you."

"I care about you, too, Fox," Krystal smiled, stroking his cheek, "So why are you scared?"

"Because I don't want to lose you out there. You came so close, so many times Krystal," Fox stammered, "I don't want there to come a day when I can't save you."

For the first time, something in Krystal's face fell. She seemed to understand that this was going somewhere she wouldn't like.

"What are you saying?" Krystal breathed.

Fox breathed hard, determined to bring it out without messing up. "I don't want you flying anymore."

"What?" she inquired, confused.

Fox suddenly found it easier to speak. He was speaking to her more as a Commander now rather than a lover. His first big mistake.

"I don't want you to be on active flight duty anymore. Maybe one day I'll feel more comfortable letting you go out there, but not now," Fox said calmly.

"I…I can train more, if that's what you _want_," Krystal protested, still flabbergasted.

"No. I… I don't know. It's not the training, it's just…" Fox trailed off.

"It's just you can't _handle _the idea of _me _putting my life on the line like everyone else," Krystal said in a somewhat stronger tone, "Or you don't think I've got what it _takes _and you don't have the balls to tell me outright. But I think I'm good enough for this team. I think you're letting your… _insecurities _cloud the issue. You'd rather I just stick around as your… pet or something, wouldn't you?"

Fox didn't answer.

"Well I won't," Krystal refused.

"What?" Fox demanded quietly.

"This is my life now. This is what I love doing, Fox," Krystal explained carefully, "I don't have anything else but you and the team and those ships. I care about you, Fox. And if you care about me you'll let me a part of my new family, and realize that no matter what you're going to lose me _some_day."

Fox's mouth fell a little bit, and he exhaled softly. Then he made the biggest mistake of his life.

"Then I don't what you on the team anymore," Fox said.

Krystal looked as if he had struck her.

"No," she whispered.

"If you won't let me keep you safe, then I don't want to be around to see you lose your life to this job. I can't let you keep doing this," Fox reasoned.

"What about us?" she breathed.

"If it means you're out of danger, I'm willing to sacrifice that," Fox answered quietly.

Krystal put a hand to her mouth and stepped back, her eyes welling up with tears.

"No…" she sobbed lightly, "You can't do this. You and the others are _all I have_, Fox! I've already lost everything once, you know that. Don't make me lose everything again…"

She fell to her knees and shivered pathetically, her whole body shaking.

He couldn't look at her. He knew he was right. And he knew that if he kept talking, he might change his mind.

Fox began, "I'll get you a hotel room and enough money for you to start out on your own--"

"No!" Krystal cut off, grabbing Fox's hand and glaring at him through her tears.

Her aqua-colored eyes bored into him as she shuddered at him through gritted teeth, "No, don't you do this to me, you bastard. I love you, Fox. Don't leave me. Don't make me go."

He wanted to say "I love you, too." He tortured himself for months afterwards, wondering why he didn't just say those four little words.

Instead, he pulled his hand away from hers, his body stiff as a board.

"Goodbye, Krystal," Fox said hoarsely, then turned and started walking away.

"Fox," Krystal croaked.

He stopped for a moment, not turning around, his shoulders feeling stiff.

"If you can do this...You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she told him.

Fox regained the use of his legs and walked away from her.

"Fox!" she cried desperately.

He only walked faster. This had to be the right decision, even though it felt so wrong. He just didn't want to lose her. Why had it seemed so logical to give her up instead?

An even louder, hysterical scream of "FOX!!!" seemed to echo in his head, morphing into the blaring sound of an alarm as Fox McCloud's eyes flew open.

In the darkness of his cabin on the second _Great Fox_, the red flashing light of the ship's general quarters alarm turned the room into a cycle of dull red light followed by darkness.

"**Attention all hands, hostile contact confirmed. Pilots to hangar bay for launch. Main batteries standing by for target bearing. Repeat, hostile contact confirmed…**" came the voice of ROB-64 over the ship's intercom.

Fox shook the cobwebs out of his head, threw the sheets off of his body, and leapt toward his clothes.


	2. Back in Business

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm still getting back into the hang of all this, so here's a nice _in medias res _opening chapter chock full of action and dialogue for you. I'm trying something new here, since everyone seems to like my choice of music for the end of these stories, and I'll give you a little soundtrack for some of the chapters. For the whole starfight sequence, the music is Kenny Loggins' "Highway to the Danger Zone" from the movie _Top Gun_. If you don't think StarFox takes inspiration from _Top Gun_, you're trippin. Even if you still don't, it fits SO well. Enjoy.

* * *

-**Back In Business**-

Fox flew out of the door of his cabin, still struggling to fit one of his arms through the sleeves of his white Team StarFox jacket, his pilot headset grasped in the other hand. His boots tapped into the metal floors of the pristine white corridor as he rushed towards the turbolift that would take him to the hangar deck. Finally slipping his left arm into his sleeve, he cringed uncomfortably as the rear of the jacket caught his tail and pinned it to his back. Fox paused for a moment and swept his bushy red tail out from under the jacket, then continued jogging down the hall as the general quarters alarm continued to sound. A rush of tapping footsteps behind him was all the warning Fox had before a feathered hand lightly slapped the back of his head and a lanky, azure-plumed falcon of thirty appeared beside him wearing a dark brown flight suit and a similar white jacket.

"Quit screwing around," Fox chided, "What's going on?"

"Dunno, Slippy had tha' watch with ROB," Falco Lombardi replied as they ran down the long corridor.

"Heard anything from either of them?" Fox demanded, rounding a corner and approaching the lift doors.

"Otha' than the announcement on the alarm? Nada," Falco answered with a shake of his head.

"Well, let's change that quick," Fox muttered, more to himself as they stopped at the lift doors and Falco pressed the call button.

As the lift began to hum to life, both Falco and Fox slipped their pilot's headsets over the backs of their heads, feeling the padding securely tighten around their skulls as the headsets automatically switched on. Just as Fox adjusted the microphone on the headset up to his muzzle and prepared to speak, a high pitched voice behind them shrieked, "Wait for me!"

They both looked back to see a short, plump frog of twenty eight wearing a dull yellow utility jumpsuit and a red and white baseball cap jogging down the corridor in their direction. Slippy Toad's rather stubby legs gave him a comical waddling appearance as he huffed and puffed his way to the turbolift. Secured around the back of his head, its ends almost touching the corners of Slippy's enormous mouth, was a pilot's headset of his own.

"Ya' need ta' make a date with tha' gym room, Slippy; just a few months wit' Amanda 'n you've gotten _soft_," Falco jeered.

"Hey, Falco: Blow me," Slippy exhaled.

"Oooh-hoo-hoo, harsh words for tha' little froggy," Falco returned, the fleshy corners of his beak turning upwards in an avian smirk, "I'm sure you'd like me ta' do that, but I'm sure I'd need a magnifyin' glass ta' find your--"

"Cut the shit out and apologize later," Fox cut off, turning to Slippy, "What's going on? Did we catch up to them _already_?"

"Yeah," Slippy replied with a nod as the turbolift chimed and the doors opened.

As the three of them filed into the turbolift and Fox pressed the button for the hangar deck, Falco demanded, "How'd we find tha' Deathclownz this fast? I thought they were _hidin' _from us."

"I went down to the galley to get a snack for a _minute_, and when I came back ROB had just picked them up on the sensors," Slippy explained as the lift descended.

"Nice goin', Slip," Falco remarked, rolling his eyes.

"They had to _know _we were after them but it's like they came right up to fight us," Slippy continued, "It doesn't make any _sense_."

"They're a gang of space pirates that wear clown makeup and rape people with rubber chickens," Fox submitted flatly, "Something tells me they're not in the sense-making business."

The turbolift stopped and the doors slid open to reveal a long, trapezoidal room of white concrete and bright lights. The _Great Fox_'s hangar bay was filled with all of the vehicles of the StarFox Team, along with all of the equipment required to repair, fuel, maintain and launch them. Along the starboard side of the hangar bay were the alcoves in which each of the vehicles themselves were stored, while the port side was dominated by storage for maintenance equipment, deck crew droids, and the large airlock and elevator mechanism that could load and launch up to two sequential Arwings from the ship's electromagnetic catapault before needing to be loaded with additional fighters. At the rear of the room was a large elevator for lowering Arwings from the rear landing bay above.

The three of them sprinted out of the turbolift, running past the alcoves of the StarFox Team's three Landmaster tanks (one with treads, another lighter and faster one with all-terrain wheels, and a third treaded one to strip for spare parts), to the spaces where the four StarFox Arwings were stored. As Fox approached his polished white and blue fighter, he spared a look at the one extra Arwing to the right of his with Krystal's name on it. He stopped looking at it and put his focus back on the mission as Slippy pulled out a remote and pressed a button. From the port side of the hangar bay, three groups of yellow deck crew droids swarmed out of their charging stations, either hovering or speeding across the concrete on their rubber wheels.

Fox's Arwing hummed to life, automatically detecting his presence, and the transparisteel canopy lifted upwards with a hydraulic hiss. He grabbed onto the ends of the cockpit with both hands and lifted himself up, then slid down feet-first into the pilot's seat. Fox quickly snapped the six-point safety harness into place, and beheld the computer console as it read 'WELCOME, FOX MCCLOUD'.

The green scouter in his headset extended automatically over Fox's right eye, lighting up with a comprehensive targeting and communications heads-up display. The canopy closed down over Fox's head and secured shut with a click. He did a quick systems check, finding all the systems nominal, the lasers charged and the bomb magazine full, and then initiated the wireless uplink between the Arwing and the _Great Fox_ to configure the automated launch sequence. The G-diffusers began to warm up with a low but energetic hum, and Fox ran his tongue over his canine teeth and flexed his hands.

"ROB, you there?" Fox inquired.

"**Affirmative, Fox**," ROB-64 answered in his synthetic voice.

"What's the sitrep?"

"**Sensors have detected a single Cosmolabs **_**Geminon**_**-class cruiser at 327 kilometers bearing 34 mark negative 14, previously inactive and hiding in the surrounding asteroids. A small shuttle craft flying in close proximity to the cruiser has also been picked up. The cruiser matches the descriptions of the **_**Pennywise**_**, and the use of the cruiser in concert with the shuttle matches the tactics of the Deathclownz**," ROB informed.

"Have they broadcast any intentions?" Fox inquired as one of the deck crew droids clipped onto the Arwing's landing gear and began to drag it out of the alcove.

"**I made clear our intentions to take them into custody and that under our licenses and letters of marque we are authorized in the use of deadly force. Based on their response, I determined that the Deathclownz are not prepared to surrender peacefully**," ROB answered.

"What was their response?"

"**Verbatim, it was: "Fuck you, asshole," followed by a distinct honking noise before the transmission was severed**."

Falco could be heard snorting with laughter over the comlink.

"ROB needs ta' curse more," Falco snickered, "Can we program that in?"

"**The **_**Pennywise **_**is launching fighters. They'll be in range in less than five minutes, sir**," ROB informed them.

"ROB, as soon as we launch, acquire a firing solution on the _Pennywise _and commence a barrage. Focus on the engine systems. Arm the missile batteries but only fire on my command. Let us worry about the shuttle and the fighters," Fox instructed.

"**Yes, sir**," the android responded.

By that time, the deck crew droids had positioned Fox's Arwing on the massive elevator leading to the launch bay, with Falco's ship positioned next in line. The elevator suddenly descended with an electronic groan, passing through the magnetic field that held in the air from the vacuum of space before stopping suddenly. A wheezing sound of machinery to the rear of Fox could be heard as the electromagnetic catapult coupled with the rear of the Arwing. With an almost undetectable lurch, the Arwing was lifted off of the elevator platform and gently carried to the side, through a space and then down into the trapezoidal launch tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, there was nothing but blackness and stars stretching out into infinity. Fox pressed a button on the computer console and the message 'ENGINES ONLINE' flashed as an energized whine told him that the fighter's plasma engines had come to life. His hands wrapped around the ship's joystick comfortably, its familiar feel bringing him back into the mindset of an ace pilot.

"**Engines nominal. All systems go**," ROB said over the comlink.

The catapult began to whirr to life growing in an ever higher and higher pitch. Fox breathed in and out, clearing his mind. As of that moment, there was no Krystal. There were no flashbacks from the drug that Wolf O'Donnell had doped him with before trying to kill him months ago. There were no mistakes from the past to haunt him. There weren't allowed to be. The only things that mattered were himself, his ship, his wingmates and the mission. He stared straight ahead with emerald eyes.

"**Launch commence**."

The catapult and the engines screamed and the Arwing shot forward, the tunnel disappearing in the blink of an eye as Fox was thrown into open space. The endless blackness of the universe dominated his vision, with no clear planet in sight. Stretching before him was the dense asteroid field of Meteo, the hundreds of thousands of rough planetoids stretching as far as Fox could see like an endless field of giant potatoes. The Arwing curved over a small asteroid, and at that point he saw it clear as day: a long, grey ship comprised of a slender, vaguely rectangular section and a large saucer-shaped section dominating its bow. Atop the middle of the rectangular section of the ship were two bay openings from which small ships could be launched and landed, and at the rear of the ship were a pair of massive grey warp drive engines. Painted garishly on the saucer section of the cruiser was the depiction of the horned skull of a ram, a bulbous red clown nose on its snout and its teeth colored blue in a way that it suggested a grin. In between Fox's Arwing and the large space pirate ship, getting closer by the minute, he could see a cloud of oddly ovaloid, flying-wing style starfighters led by a larger shuttlecraft with a pair of forward mandibles that gave it a crab-like appearance.

"Falco, are you out here yet?" Fox inquired into his microphone.

"Comin' right up on your four o'clock, Foxie. Slippy should be out here any second," Falco answered.

"Good," Fox nodded, staring at the multiple contacts on the radar that were getting closer by the second.

"Let's focus on the shuttle first; it's got the best chance of boarding the _Great Fox_," Fox instructed, noticing only at that moment the rectangular box mounted on top of the shuttle as it came ever closer. His eyes went wide and he suddenly snapped, "It's got a missile pod mounted on top of it! Break!"

As the crab-like shuttle flew closer, the front end of the box erupted in puffs of smoke and a tight group of four concussion missiles sped towards Fox. He shoved the control stick down and the Arwing dived through space, a concussion missile tearing right over the canopy with a trail of smoke. Fox brought the Arwing back up and tapped the firing button as the shuttle came into view, sending paired blue laser bolts through space and into the shuttle's shields. The shuttle blasted forward and twisted ninety degrees, blowing past the Arwing and suddenly red laser blasts were streaming around Fox's cockpit like rain as the pirate starfighters came into range. The Arwing shuddered with the impact of two laser shots, taking the shields down to 94% before Fox pulled the ship into a barrel roll that flared the shields and scattered the laser blasts like leaves.

The fighter screamed forward and Fox gritted his teeth as the first grey pirate starfighter reached his crosshairs, blowing it to bits with the press of a button. Fox zoomed through the fiery wreckage and climbed upwards only to loop around back to the other dozen radar contacts on his screen.

"ROB, if you have a solution on the _Pennywise_, fire!" Fox commanded, "Slippy, help me take care of the fighters; Falco, go after the shuttle!"

As the Arwing turned, Fox caught a brief glimpse of the swan-like form of the _Great Fox _as it fired enormous yellow laser blasts one after the other from its twin forward cannons at the large grey pirate ship beyond. On the radar screen, the white dots representing the pirate starfighters were scattering wildly away from the yellow arrow representing Fox's ship as Falco's blue arrow chased a particularly fast white dot and Slippy's green arrow approached. He banked to the left and a turning pirate fighter came into view, its dorsal side exposed to Fox's guns. The Arwing's laser cannons barked and sent a pair of blue laser bolts lancing into the fighter, which vaporized in a flash of fire. Fox continued turning, taking out two more pirate fighters as he passed before forming up on Slippy's left.

"Come back around with me and we'll mow through the main group," Fox instructed.

"You got it, Fox!" Slippy remarked, and the two fighters curved tightly to the right 180 degrees.

A swarm of pirate fighters less than a kilometer away bore down on them, speeding up to meet them spitting thin red laser beams. Both of the Arwings returned fire with paired blue lasers that effortlessly pierced the cheap shields of the enemy fighters, tearing them to shreds and reducing several to scraps of metal in the blackness of space. A single fighter tore towards Fox and Slippy at frightening speed, still flying and functional, and Fox let off a shot that clipped the left side of the flying-wing ship. A thick trail of black smoke erupted from the side of the fighter, sweeping over Fox's canopy as the Arwing zoomed through it and the damaged fighter overshot the both of them.

"I'll take care of that one, Fox, there's only a few stragglers," Slippy intoned, breaking out of formation with Fox and pursuing the damaged pirate fighter.

Fox glanced to his radar screen, seeing about four contacts remaining in his vicinity. One of them was coming right up behind him.

Before Fox could even move the control stick, the Arwing rocked with two more impacts, his shields going down to 87%. He yanked the stick backwards and the Arwing twisted upwards through space, looping up and over before coming back down right on the fighter's tail. Fox clicked the button with his thumb and blasted the fighter into nothingness.

A single pirate fighter on the radar screen was headed _away _from the three of them rather than in their direction, and Fox smirked and gunned his fighter after the fleeing enemy. He might've been willing to let the criminal escape on another day. Not today, though.

The flying-wing fighter came within range in merely a moment, and Fox tapped on the firing button, sending paired blue laser blasts towards the fighter, only to watch it swerve to the left just in time to dodge the laser fire.

Fox took shots at the escaping fighter, watching it just barely dodge twice more as they drew closer towards one of Meteo's immense asteroids. The two ships leveled off, skimming just over the top of the gigantic rock as Fox scowled and murmured, "Let's see you dodge _this _one, hotshot."

His thumb pressed down hard on the firing button, listening to the lasers whirr up in power as the crosshairs turned red and locked onto the fighter's rear. Fox tapped the firing button again and a single glowing green charged shot leapt out of the Arwing's cannons, tearing through space towards the pirate fighter. The fighter twisted almost a full ninety degrees, banking hard to the right—and running right into an outcropping of the asteroid, tearing itself to pieces as the charged shot exploded into the rock. Fox pulled the Arwing hard upwards, blasting away from the asteroid and back into the fight.

In the distance, he could see Slippy's fighter finally destroy the damaged pirate fighter ship, reducing their number of enemies to two fighters, the shuttle and the _Pennywise _itself. Fox throttled into a boost, hearing the engines scream as the Arwing rocketed back towards the _Great Fox_, where Falco's Arwing was in the process of chasing the pirate shuttle around the StarFox mothership.

As the shuttle dipped under the _Great Fox_'s hull just below the main launch bay, the engines flared and the ship sped right towards Fox, spewing green laser beams. Fox swerved the Arwing through space, dodging the shots, murmuring to himself, "Come on, come on, come on," always minding the two remaining pirate fighters beginning to close in on his tail.

"Watch it, Fox!" Falco yelled, and suddenly the missile pod mounted on top of the shuttle erupted with three more concussion missiles headed right towards Fox's Arwing.

"Gotcha," Fox smirked, engaging the gravity brakes in full and pulling the Arwing into a tight, fishtailing U-turn through space. He shoved the throttle into a boost speed, hearing the engines howl as the Arwing blasted head-on towards the pirate fighters that were previously following it. Fox pulled into a barrel-roll, reflecting the fighters laser shots and speeding ever closer, the missiles still trailing behind and gaining.

The Arwing and the pirate fighters converged, with Fox flying just overhead as the two fighters flew right into the paths of the missiles. The concussion missiles exploded in a blossoming rose of fire, consuming both fighters while Fox curved back around.

"Alright, Fox!!" Slippy shouted through the comlink, causing a smile to form on Fox's furred muzzle.

The Arwing finished its turn, and Fox could see that the pirate shuttle was already fleeing the battle scene, firing shots at Falco and Slippy as they closely pursued.

Fox tore after the shuttle as well, sweeping past an asteroid as the three ships grew closer.

"ROB, do you have any bearings on the shuttle?" Fox inquired.

"**Affirmative, sir**," ROB replied stoically.

"Guys, go for a bombing run on the _Pennywise_'s launch bay; ROB'll take care of the shuttle," Fox said into his comlink.

"Alright, Foxie," Falco responded, breaking off pursuit of the shuttle and tearing towards the large ship.

The shuttle pulled off to the left, right into the firing sights of the _Great Fox_, which proceeded to fire huge yellow blasts of laser energy at the escaping ship. The first shot missed, however the following two more connected with the shuttle flawlessly, the first piercing its shields and the second creating a large explosion on the top of the shuttlecraft.

The _Great Fox _fired another shot at the ship, just barely missing as it pulled into a feeble loop, and followed up with a second, well-aimed blast that hit the ship dead-on. An explosion tore off one of the shuttle's distinctive mandibles, and it drifted, out of control through space a smoking mess before exploding into a million pieces of metal.

"ROB, target the missile batteries on the primary engines and on the structural supports for the _Pennywise_'s two main sections; fire as soon as Falco and Slippy have delivered their smart bombs," Fox ordered, watching the progress of his two teammates as they bore closer to the large pirate mother ship.

As the _Pennywise_ began to open fire on the two Arwings with its multiple turbolaser batteries, missing each time due to the sheer speed of the starfighters, Fox noticed the large ship beginning to rotate away from them.

"Guys, it looks like it's going to try warping away, are you going to make it?" Fox inquired.

"We got it, we got it, Foxie," Falco shrugged verbally, "Cool it."

Far away, the two Arwings unleashed the glowing red cones of smart bombs, pulling up and away just as the bombs sailed into the landing bays of the _Pennywise_. With bright red-orange flashes, the _Pennywise _shook as explosions tore apart the inside of its flight deck, sending a hail of debris out into space and disintegrating the ship's shields in a greenish blue haze.

From the starboard upper wing of the _Great Fox_ erupted three large concealed missiles that streaked through space, through the asteroids on a collision course with the pirate ship. The two Arwings of Falco and Slippy flew past Fox's ship, headed for the rear landing bay of the _Great Fox_. Just as Fox pulled his ship back around and started heading back towards the ship himself, the three missiles tore into the _Pennywise_, rippling through its superstructure and tearing the ship apart with the force of three fusion warheads. Crackling sparkles of fire lit up the dark vacuum of space as the ship blasted apart into multiple large pieces. In a matter of moments, the fires died and the remains of the _Pennywise _were little more than additional debris floating in the dead fields of rock.

* * *

"Damn, it felt good ta' kick some ass!" Falco exclaimed as they ushered into the bridge of the _Great Fox_, with ROB-64 calmly working at his USC station. Fox quietly smirked and threw himself into the leather captain's chair of the _Great Fox_ as Falco announced, "Afta' more than a month a' this shit, I'm up for some shots or somethin'. How 'bout it, Foxie? Slip? Shots?" Falco inquired.

"Like you need our _permission_ to start drinking," Slippy remarked, rolling his bulbous eyes.

"Fine, crybaby, none for you," Falco shrugged, then turned his attention to the captains chair, "Fox, don't disappoint me now."

Fox raised an eyebrow.

"Sure," Fox remarked, "But make it a _drink_, like Slush and Rum or something. Let's not try to get hammered just yet."

"Sounds good ta' me," Falco winked, "Two Slush n' Rums, 'n a juice box for tha' _baby_."

"Kiss my ass, Falco," Slippy scowled, "Fine, whatever, make one for me, too while you're at it."

"Did Amanda give ya' _permission _ta' drink?" Falco sneered lightly.

"Falco…" Fox sighed.

"What?" Falco demanded, "Ya' don't hear em' talkin' on tha' holoprojector all tha' time? Tha' boy is _whipped_, I'm surprised we were able ta' get him back from her!"

"Knock it off and go get the drinks if you're going to do something," Fox snapped, and Falco walked out of the bridge with a roll of his eyes.

Fox spared a look at Slippy, who gave a sigh as he sat down at one of the stations on the bridge.

"You alright? He's not getting to you, is he?" Fox inquired.

Slippy looked up at Fox, then grimaced crookedly and shrugged with one shoulder.

"It's Falco," Slippy remarked, "Guess I just forgot how he is. Almost a year without him and my skin got a little thin."  
"I can talk to him," Fox suggested.

"No, no, no," Slippy replied with a shake of his head, "I'll get used to it again. It hasn't even been two months. I'll be fine."

Slippy spun around in the chair slowly, looking up blankly at the ceiling.

"If it helps at all," Fox said, "I'm glad you came back. So is Falco, he's just horrible when it comes to showing it."

"Thanks," Slippy smiled, "I'm glad you called me back, Fox. We were all hoping you'd put everything back together again someday."

_How ironic that Wolf had to drive me half insane and try to murder me before I thought I thought it was _worth _putting everything back together_, Fox thought to himself.

"We're not done, yet," Fox smirked, thinking about Peppy and Krystal.

Slippy merely smiled once more, and looked out of the large viewing port on the _Great Fox_'s bridge.

"ROB, do you have our invoice calculated?" Fox inquired.

"**Affirmative, Fox**," ROB replied, his mechanical lower jaw working over in tune with the speech from his vocabulator, "**Ready to transmit on your command.**"

"Alright, connect me to Nolan Pine at the ITC," Fox instructed, sitting up in his chair and making a modest effort to appear presentable.

The holoprojector in the bridge ceiling lit up and suddenly projected a large, circular logo of two globes connected by a shooting star. Underneath were the words: "Interstellar Trade Conglomerate. Please hold."

After a few moments, the logo disappeared and a tall, grey-furred equine in a crisp suit appeared in the hologram, looking down at Fox skeptically.

"Commander McCloud," Pine noted stiffly, "It's been a while."

"We've got your results, Mr. Pine," Fox responded.

Nolan Pine was the Vice President of Operations for the Interstellar Trade Conglomerate, the commerce union that controlled the only approved warp route from Macbeth to Corneria that went straight through Meteo rather than around it. The ITC's control of the trade route ensured that all interstellar commerce between Corneria and Macbeth done through them would reach its destination faster than any other competitor. Because of this factor, the ITC had become one of the most profitable trade organizations in Lylat. That is, until the Deathclownz space pirate gang began hijacking ITC trade ships in Meteo, raping and killing all of the crew and stealing most of the cargo before blowing them up. That had cut their profit share down pretty fast.

"After three weeks of no-shows, I was beginning to doubt your reputation," Pine sighed, shifting his large body around in his chair and ruffling the material of his suit.

Like all other equines, Pine wasn't necessarily fat or large for a horse, he was just so much larger than most other beings in Lylat (the average horse was still almost a meter taller and several kilograms heavier than the average canine, feline, or leporid) that his presence was inherently imposing.

"Especially given that you've been out of business until recently. But the Deathclownz are in custody?" Pine inquired.

"They didn't want to come quietly, so we didn't bother," Fox explained casually, "You can see the holocam footage from the _Great Fox _or from any of the Arwings, but either way you'll see that they won't be around to cause any more trouble."

Pine frowned.

"So you _didn't_ recover any cargo?" Pine presumed, "And you _didn't _find any trace of the _Astral Queen_?"

"No. We put higher priority on keeping alive than getting your cargo back. And as we told you, everything we found so far says that the _Astral Queen _was ransacked and blown up, just like all of the other ships," Fox remarked, "That's why it was a _bonus_, not a contract requirement, to find it."

"Whatever," Pine sniffed, "You have an invoice, don't you? Let's see it."

"ROB," Fox said, looking over to the android, "Forward the bill."

"**Transmission complete, Fox**," ROB said after a moment.

Pine looked at a datapad in his lap, his large nostrils broadened in disgust. A large, sniffing growl of displeasure erupted from his throat.

"This is _outrageous_," Pine scoffed.

"It's what you _paid _for," Fox glared, "It's all in the contract you signed. Expenses, damages, plus a flat fee if we're able to accomplish the assignment. It's all in there."

"The Army could've done this job for _free_," Pine growled.

"You were waiting six months for the Army to even send out a patrol through Meteo looking for them. It took us a _month_ to take care of the Deathclownz for you, and once word spreads that you had StarFox getting rid of your enemies, there won't be any pirates coming after your ships," Fox reasoned, "Kinda comes with the reputation."

"QuestForce would've done it _cheaper_," Pine came back as the doors to the bridge slid open and Falco strode back in with three glasses of Slusho Cola mixed with Redwall Rum in his arms. Catching Pine's remark, Falco laughed mockingly as he passed a drink to Slippy, then Fox. Pine looked at Falco acidly, and Fox gave a smirk as Falco passed him the cool beverage.

"QuestForce is a group of wannabes on a reality holovision joke," Fox quipped, "I think all they do anymore is catch bail-jumpers."

"Not ta' mention those pesky starship thieves," Falco added, "Yeah, QuestForce does some _scary _shit on that show a' theirs."

Pine scowled as Fox sipped the well-mixed Slush and Rum.

"This is good, Falco, you can barely taste the booze," Fox complimented, "Like in a good way."

"I could've searched around and seen if Team _StarWolf _could've done it cheaper," Pine huffed.

Fox paused in mid-drink, looking up with emerald eyes of anger. Falco smiled ever so slightly. Fox calmly finished sipping, then set the drink down on the armrest of his chair, taking time to lick his lips and crack his knuckles.

"You probably could've," Fox shrugged, "But, then, you see, that would make you the sponsor of a hired _terrorist _organization. Because _that's _what StarWolf is according to the CSB. That would _also_ make you a personal enemy of mine, given that I've been on the receiving end of StarWolf's brand of carnage more times than I'd like to remember. But don't worry about that. Go for it and hire StarWolf next time. We _love _collecting bounties on criminal accessory charges for people that hire StarWolf; it's just our way of depriving them of business. You know what? I'll do you one better and recommend that the CSB put you under investigation for any criminal ties, since you've got the resources someone would need to get the attention of _those _bastards. In any case though, we're done bullshitting here. There's no negotiating on the invoice. Pay us what it says you owe us."

There was cold fierceness in Fox's voice, and a stony look in his eyes that made it clear he wasn't amused anymore. Nolan Pine looked a little flustered.

"I could get a lawyer to fight this contract," Pine suggested.

"Go for it. I know a lawyer that _specializes _in these things. My father used him to set StarFox up," Fox shot back icily, "Then you'll be paying us what you owe us, _plus _a countersuit."

Pine didn't respond, merely looked down to the side for a moment.

"I'll forward the Liat to your account," Pine finally said quietly, "It should post by tomorrow, Cornerian time."

"Good," Fox said, "Pleasure doing business with you."

"I don't think we'll be calling you again," Pine mentioned quietly.

"Don't bother. We're not working for you again," Fox returned, then motioned to ROB to cut off the transmission.

The horse in the suit disappeared as Fox shook his head and took another sip of his drink.

"You told _him_, Fox," Falco smirked.

"I'm not in the mood to joke about _StarWolf_ any time soon," Fox growled hotly.

"Hey, I'm not objectin'," Falco shrugged, "Last time we saw Wolfie, tha' fuckin' fuzzball tried ta' bite my face off. Go on n' hate on 'em all ya' want."

"**Fox**," ROB intoned from his station, "**You have another transmission. I allowed the caller to listen in on the previous conversation for the sake of timeliness. Patching in now**."

"Well, who is it?" Fox demanded as the holoprojector lit up once more.

"Risky move, mouthing off like that to the ITC," came a hoarse voice from the sound system as the projected image of a middle-aged leporid in a red uniform and glasses appeared, "They've got lots of pull."

"Peppy!" Fox called, the smile returning to his face.

"Good to see you again, Peppy!" Slippy remarked.

"How's it hangin, Old Man?" Falco greeted coolly.

"It's great to see all of you," Peppy answered with a smile, "Congrats on completing your first contract. StarFox really is back. But I'm serious, Fox. It doesn't help you to piss off the client like that."

"StarWolf's a touchy subject," Fox defended, "You know what he did. I might've overreacted a bit."

"A bit?" Peppy inquired with a raised eyebrow, "You threatened to put him under investigation, Fox."

"He was an asshole and a cheapskate," Fox shrugged.

"That he was," Peppy smirked.

"I miss when _you _used to do most of the business stuff," Fox smiled, "Didn't realize how hard it was until I had to do it myself."

"I'm glad you can do it without me, though," Peppy mentioned.

Fox exhaled lightly and took another sip of the Slush and Rum, then looked back at the slightly wizened rabbit.

"Still, Peppy," Fox said slowly, "You're missed here. It's not the same without you. How long until I can get you back here where you belong?"

Peppy smiled warmly and looked down, then looked back up and said, "How long will it take you to get to Corneria?"

"What?" Fox said, his ears perking up brightly.

"You're coming back?" Slippy announced happily.

Falco merely smiled and sipped his drink through a straw. Fox, on the other hand, looked 180 degrees from his dark mood of mere moments ago, sitting forward in his seat in anticipation.

"You're really resigning?" Fox inquired, trying not to look too excited, "How'd it happen? Not that I'm complaining, but how'd it happen?"

Peppy's smile fell a little bit and he gave a short sigh, then answered with, "The job's not what it used to be, Fox. I thought I could make a difference and bring the military back to what it was when George was running it. But it's a different game these days; too much politics and all that crap. And the Commonwealth's headed in a different direction. So, I called George up. He's feeling better than he was nine months ago, and he agreed to fill in until they can find a suitable replacement. I've even asked that I formally resign at the christening ceremony for the new _Ajax-_class. Did you send in your consent for the name?"

"Hm?" Fox inquired, a spot of confusion amidst his happiness that Peppy was returning, "What consent?"

"You don't check your e-mail?" Peppy inquired dryly, "They want your consent to name the new ship after your _father_. The CCS _James McCloud_. Thought it had a nice ring to it. Or, _Sir James McCloud_, whichever you prefer."

Fox smiled and blinked slowly.

"It does have a nice ring to it," Fox responded.

"I've also managed to wrangle you another contract assignment if you're up for it," Peppy mentioned somewhat reluctantly, "They sort of asked me to give you the job as my going away duty."

"They?" Fox probed.

"The CSB," Peppy clarified. He didn't look terribly happy about it, whatever it was.

"What is it?" Fox asked.

"They'll brief you at the ceremony, you're all invited. Rupert Frost will be there, as well," Peppy answered, vaguely dodging the question, then changing the subject with a remark of, "Oh, and we invited Bill, too!"

"Good," Fox said after a moment, nodding, then smiled, "It'll be great to see both of you guys. I'm really glad you're coming back, Peppy. It's starting to feel like the good old days again."

"Glad to hear it, Fox," Peppy grinned, then bowed his head, "The christening ceremony's in three days. Make sure you answer that e-mail about your consent or they won't be able to legally name it the _James McCloud_. I'll have to see you all then; I've got to go. I've got to start cleaning out my office. I'm looking forward to seeing you guys again, though."

"Same here, Peppy," Fox smirked, "See you in a few days."

"See you in a few, Fox," Peppy nodded, then the hologram disappeared as the transmission cut off.

There was a moment of pause as they all built in excitement before Falco yelled, "Hot damn, Peppy's comin' back! And anotha' job headed our way! I told ya' it was time for drinks! Let's go, downstairs in tha' rec room right now! We're drinkin' 'n playin' WarGames all tha' way ta' Corneria!"

Fox's smile deepened as Falco began to lead Slippy out of the bridge and towards the turbolift.

"I'll be right there!" Fox informed him, staring for a moment out towards the stars through the bridge's viewport. He gave it time to sink in, replacing the shadow of emptiness that still somewhat lingered from the haunting mistakes of his past. Peppy was coming back to them. They were almost a full team again.

"You're next, Krystal," Fox whispered, "I'll make up for everything. I promise."

He only paused to instruct ROB to set a course for Corneria before getting out of his chair and exiting the bridge.

* * *

In his corner office in the prestigious Citadel building of Anaxes, the military dominated mega-city of Corneria, General Peppy Hare sighed as he returned to his chair from the holoprojector.

"This job had better be exactly what you say it is," Peppy breathed, "No tricks or fine print or whatever you want to call it."

"General Hare," Director Gillian Morrow intoned in her throaty voice, leaning back in her chair across the desk from Peppy, "Whatever professional disagreements we might've had in the past, they're in the past. You're moving on to chase pirates and criminals with Fox McCloud, and I'm going to oversee the restructuring of my Bureau while assisting the Prime Minister in finding your replacement. Consider this assignment an opportunity for you and the rest of StarFox to serve your Commonwealth. Also, consider it a professional courtesy showing that we're going to let bygones be bygones."

The she-wolf then leaned forward and bore down on him with her golden eyes, inquiring calmly, "Why would you think I'm trying to trick you?"

"Because I think you're a calculating, power-hungry sociopath and I don't trust you," Peppy answered casually, taking a drink from a glass of water at his desk, "No disrespect intended."

Morrow's expression didn't change.

"You're entitled to your opinion," Gillian Morrow conceded blandly, "I suppose I could prove you right and have your mothership bugged and tracked and keep tabs on you from now on, just to make sure StarFox doesn't pose a threat to the new way we're going to be doing things. I could go a step farther and have your _daughter _monitored, just to make sure she's not teaching astrophysics or any other sensitive information to enemies of the state. I could even fully live up to your label for me and have Team StarFox's charter and letters of marque revoked. But I'm not going to do that just now, General Hare, because you and your friends are _useful _to me. And until they're no longer useful to me, there's no reason to think that I would do anything to directly inconvenience you or anyone else you care about. In that case, I'd recommend that you proceed on this assignment like any other. I'd recommend that you play your part and then slip back into obscurity with the rest of StarFox. That way, I don't have to be the person that you think I am, General Hare."

Peppy stared at her silently through his glasses.

"I'll show myself out," Morrow said, rising up from her chair and gracefully pushing it back into place, her white canine tail flowing gracefully along with the movements of her body, "Enjoy your last days as an officer, General. I hope you enjoy your return to the private sector." Peppy Hare still said nothing.

The wooden double doors to his office split apart automatically as Gillian Morrow calmly exited.

"Oh, and General?"

Peppy looked back at her.

"I'm indifferent to your opinion of me, but I have to concede that you're right not to trust me," Morrow remarked, "I wouldn't trust me, either."

The doors shut, and General Peppy Hare stared at them for a moment. Then he finished his water, and began to clean out his desk.


	3. All the Better to Kill You With

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay. I know it's been like forever since I've updated. The thing is, when I'm not home for the summer, I'm a college honors sophomore with a heavy workload of classes, a job, two clubs and a hurricane-force social life. I'm busy. I promise that I'll keep working on this story. Its just that you might have to deal with a longer time between updates than usual. I still really like where this story's going, so I'm going to keep doing it. Oh, and please review too. It reminds me why I'm writing. To repay you for your patience, heres a dense, mayhem-filled chapter featuring everyone's favorite ruthless mercenaries. "Oh my, Grandma," said Little Red Riding Hood, "What big guns you have!" What said the (Star)Wolf in response?

* * *

**-All the Better to Kill You With-**

Countless poems had been written in reverence of Aquas' oceans, the softly-writhing skin of endless blue that covered the entire planet. The constantly-shifting tides brought about from the planet's twin moons meant that some small landmasses could occasionally be found on Aquas, uncovered for a few precious hours before disappearing below the depths once more, (a fact that the amphibian race had evolved to take advantage of) but these were mere oases in the vast desert of the ocean surface. On days such as this, with the blinding yellow light of Aquas' sun Triton glimmering off the waves and the light blue of the cloudless skies above contrasting with the darker ocean, it was hard not to imagine why countless more poems hadn't been written about it, about the vastness, the tranquil, overwhelming _blueness_ of the water-world.

Of the three indigenous races of Aquas, only the amphibians could survive outside of the oceans. Their ability to live on dry land and the need to create a civilization that could survive being submerged gave them a crucial advantage over the shark and dolphin races, especially when Aquas first became a colony of the Cornerian Empire. As the dominant governing force could only survive on dry land, the construction of massive cities that either floated on the ocean surface using complex buoyancy systems or stood erect on networks of huge stilts took place, while the sharks and dolphins became ever more reclusive in their submarine habitats, refusing to participate in a government or a society that neither side could hope to truly be a part of. Even after the collapse of the Cornerian Empire and the rise of the more democratic Cornerian Commonwealth, the two aquatic races remained steadfast in their desire to be left alone.

Thus, even though two thirds of the planet's intelligent life resided below the depths, the above-water cities of Aquas held power over the planet. The city of San Saldemere, a floating metropolis of silvery organic buildings like a coral reef made out of glass and durasteel, was one such city. The regional capital of the southwestern hemisphere of Aquas, San Saldemere had resurged from near total destruction during the Lylat War to one of the most popular gambling resorts in all of Lylat, competing with similar resorts on Zoness. As skycars and starships glided around the rounded, almost biological-looking structures of San Saldemere, a single tower stood out from amongst the rest. Taking a departure from the naturalistic-looking architecture of the rest of the city, the Tenozu Tower Hotel and Casino sported the tallest building in San Saldemere, a titanic space needle that stabbed into the sky with a sloped six-story observation deck, revolving restaurant and penthouse hotel suite at the top of the tower. One of the hottest casinos in San Saldemere, the rest of the casino hotel was housed in a much shorter v-shaped building that angled around two sides of the tower itself.

Inside the richly-lit lobby of the Tenozu, a teenage rodent dressed in a burgundy blazer with a metal nametag labeled "Gary" on the right breast pocket leaned into the reception desk with boredom. His smallish eyes glanced over to the vast casino floor visible through a huge, sloping arch, the annoying beeps and whistles of pachinko and holographic slot machines forming a roaring hum of activity when joined with the voices of people either yelling with celebration of Liat won or moaning in defeat of Liat lost to the gambling machines. He sniffed the air, a slightly pungent musky smell dominating the space. Almost every casino pumped its ventilation system full of the same pheromone-like scent; studies showed that it encouraged habit-forming activity and made people more likely to continue gambling. Gary also heard that the scent's chemicals had an effect on short-term memory, but he couldn't really remember when he'd learned that.

Through the throngs of people walking through the lobby, a golden-eyed, black-furred feline in a dark suit and white collared shirt with a red tie strode smoothly up to the desk, and Gary stood up straight, meeting the cat's piercing gaze. As the cat reached into his breast pocket, Gary just barely noticed a tiny, red rose-shaped pin on the lapel of the feline's suit. The feline pulled out a leather wallet and flicked it open, displaying a set of credentials and a badge.

"Special Agent Nicholas Fell," the feline introduced himself in a rich voice that was deep and smooth like velvet, "Commonwealth Security Bureau."

Indeed, the identification card bore the image and name of the feline with the title "CSB Special Agent", and the silver badge displayed the interlocking pentangle of the CSB, the symbol a reference to an order of knights in the Cornerian feudal era that were said to be the perfect examples of virtue and justice. Gary's whiskers twitched and his naked tail went a little stiff as he met the Special Agent's gaze once again. He'd never met a spook before; it was actually kind of intimidating. The fact that he was a cat didn't help Gary's anxiety. Cats were the worst of all the other races in Lylat, especially to rodents. "You can hang around with the chimpos and the 'canes and even whatever wolf-trash lobo that comes along if you want," his father had said once, "But those ass-licking munts are always out to get you. They're even worse than the 'canes."

Gary's father used speciesist slurs as if there were no other word for an ape other than chimpo, as if wolves were really called lobos, canines were really called 'canes and felines were really called munts. It was a challenge to stop himself from using them in public; it had imprinted on him for so long. And at that moment, though part of Gary's mind was putting forth the effort required to smile at Special Agent Fell, the other part was devoted to speculation on all of the awful things that the feline was probably calling him in his mind.

_Cheese-eater_, Gary thought, _Nitchie. Dick-tail. Plaguer. That's what cats call rats_.

"…I need to see your head of security for the hotel," The CSB agent purred awkwardly, and Gary realized that he'd been standing there in silence for more than a few moments.

"Oh, sure thing," Gary stammered, his whiskers quivering, "Right this way."

Gary looked from one side of the desk to the other, wondering where the hell Jackie was so that she could watch the desk. He saw her coming out of the refresher at the far end of the lobby and beginning to head towards them, at that point Gary motioned at her silently and came out from behind the reception desk.

"Be right back, Jackie, I'm just taking this guy to Phil real quick," Gary informed the female badger, not stopping in his walk.

Her only response was a nod of her head, and Gary led the feline through the lobby, past the entrance to the casino and the reception area and towards the turbolifts. To the right of the lifts was a door marked **Security Office—Authorized Personnel Only**. Gary tried to walk as fast as he could without making it look awkward, he didn't like the way the feline's gaze felt on his back.

Gary opened the door with his security card and beckoned the feline to enter, watching the Special Agent brush past without a word. With a grimace, Gary noticed that his hair was still, for some reason, standing on end.

The feline in the suit entered a dark green room with dozens upon dozens of holoscreen displays upon the wall, each projecting a different view of the casino floor and the hallways of the Tenozu Tower Hotel. Upon the rear wall was a wire mesh locker with several restraints and nonlethal weapons stored in case things got ugly inside the hotel. Other than two other employees working diligently at the monitors, the only person in the office was a squat, middle-aged frog in a burgundy blazer standing behind a desk, overlooking the security monitors. Like the rodent at the receptionist desk, the frog also sported a metal nametag on his chest, this time labeled "Phil Lizewski, Head of Security".

"You're the head of security for the hotel?" the feline purred softly, extending a black velvet paw.

"Call me Phil," the amphibian nodded, shaking the paw with his moist green hand.

"Special Agent Nicholas Fell," The feline purred awkwardly, staring at his paw briefly and wiping the frog's sweat off on his pant leg, "I'm with the Commonwealth Security Bureau."

"What's the CSB want with us?" Phil asked.

"Oh, well, we're assisting the Aquas Gaming Commission, conducting impromptu inspections in San Saldemere on their behalf. Nothing sinister."

"Seems like a bit of a waste for an agent," Phil remarked, one of his bulbous eyes swelling larger in skepticism.

"I'm… a rookie," the panther remarked awkwardly, "Recently established to the Poseidon City field office. I get the grunt work."

"Hmm," Phil nodded, "Don't worry; it'll pick up. Soon enough you'll be going after drug runners and space pirates, and maybe even guatraus in the cartels. You might even be going after Venomian Remnants or busting up one of those terror-loving anarchist college groups. Who knows?"

"You sound like you've had some experience in law enforcement," The panther responded.

"Used to be the Sheriff of Richport. Re-elected twice," Phil answered in a clipped manner.

The panther nodded, adjusting the rose-shaped pin on his lapel.

"Sheriff Phil Lizewski. Definitely _rolls_ off the tongue," the panther grinned somewhat condescendingly. The toad looked over at the feline oddly.

After a moment of silence, the feline inquired, "So how did you go from the Sheriff of Richport to the head of security for a San Saldemere casino?"

The frog once again gave the panther an odd look.

"I'm sorry, did I word that uncomfortably?" the panther purred smoothly, "I didn't mean to imply that your career's taken a downgrade, merely trying to make conversation."

Phil Lizewski's look only intensified, and the panther chuckled lightly, not losing an iota of his cool.

"I retired. The wife wanted to move to San Saldemere; she wanted someplace warmer than Richport. I wanted to stay busy," Phil answered finally, shifting his gaze over to the holoscreens overlooking the casino.

"She gambles, doesn't she?" the panther probed.

"Huh?" Phil coughed, returning his gaze to the Special Agent. The panther's golden eyes blinked slowly, almost seductively, the split pupils refocusing and narrowing into slits as they reopened. Before he spoke, the cat cleared his throat.

"Your wife. She gambles, I'd imagine. The pension of a sheriff must be good, but not good enough to support a gambling problem. You love your wife so much that you'd move away from all of your connections in Richport for her, and even support her vices. That's why you got a stressful job like this, because it's high paying, and you have the experience to qualify for it. Am I right?"

Phil narrowed his gaze on the young feline, his wide jaw twisting a bit in discomfort. He decided that he did _not_ like this guy, this spook (he'd forgotten his name already), especially because he was _right_: Amy loved the slot machines, Phil couldn't keep her away from them. She didn't follow any rules of self discipline or know when to stop. The best he could do was to make her promise not to gamble at the Tenozu Tower, where he and all of his coworkers could watch Amy piss all of their savings away.

"I'm sorry, why are you here again?" Phil demanded quietly.

"Inspections for the AGC. I'm a rookie, remember?" the panther answered.

"And what does that include?"

"Well, I'd like to see your penthouse level in the tower, first off."

"Wait, what….? Why's that?" Phil asked.

"We've received information that unlicensed gaming might be taking place in the penthouse level. Also that some guests might be using or dealing cotamine during their stays. Either way, part of my inspection is on the penthouse level," the panther explained.

"I'm sorry, the penthouse is being renovated right now," Phil dismissed, turning his huge eyes back on the holoscreens. The feline glanced around at the room, at the two other employees sitting at their stations.

"Mr. Lizewski, would you mind if I spoke to you privately?" the Special Agent inquired.

Once more, one of the frog's eyes seemed to pensively grow larger. After a moment of consideration, he stared over towards the other employees, a pudgy female Golden Retriever and a slim male enhydra, and then said, "Rachael, Lewis? Can you go over to pit thirteen and help Larry watch table six?"

Without a word, the two employees got up and exited the office.

"Huh. This must be hard," The panther remarked, staring at the monitors, "You have to keep your eyes on everything and everyone. Stressful, like I was saying."

"Uh-huh," Phil nodded.

"Those monitors up in that corner there? They monitor the penthouse?" the feline remarked, pointing to a row of four holoscreens, dark and blank.

"That's right."

"Doesn't that pose a security risk, though? If you don't know what's going on up there?"

"We've got people up there. And access is restricted. It's no problem," Phil answered gruffly.

At that moment, the comlink on Phil's belt went off, and a scratchy voice called out from the speaker, "Phil, it's Larry. What's this I hear about a situation on table five?"

Phil rolled his humungous eyes, then unclipped the comlink and directed into the microphone, "Table _six_, Larry. I want you to watch that fat grey mare playing kabufuda on table six. She's cleaning the place out."

"Phil, was that table _four_?" the comlink inquired.

"Table _six_, Larry. I _know _you can hear me. Quit screwing around, I'm in the middle of something."

Phil clipped the comlink back onto his belt, and then looked at the feline blankly.

"So you have people up there? Just workers?" the feline probed.

"No, we have security in that hallway, twenty four hours a day," Phil answered.

"What kind of security?"

"Right now? Uh, let's see… I think we've got two guards in the alcove near the elevators, six in the main hallway outside the suite, and one in the suite itself, along with our butler, Quinn."

"You have nine men and a _butler_ on the floor?" the panther inquired softly, tilting his head in interest. His black feline tail began to twitch ever so slightly.

"Yeah, they're helping the workers out, serving lunch, and just generally doing upkeep. Making sure nothing goes wrong," Phil shrugged, sitting down at his desk and watching the monitors.

"I'm over at table six right now, Phil, I don't know what you want me to see over here," Larry called over the comlink again. Phil growled in annoyance, unclipping the comlink from his belt and putting it to his mouth once more.

"The grey mare at table six, Larry!" Phil hissed, "I'm looking at her right now. She's killing it. Would you just keep an eye on her? I sent Rachael and Lewis out there to help."

"There's two mares at the table, Phil," Larry responded in an almost laughing tone.

"The fat grey one, Larry," Phil growled, "She's on the left of the ram in the flannel suit with her hand under the table. The bitch is either reaching into her purse for something or giving the ram a hand job! How much clearer to I have to be?!"

"Haha. Got it, Phil. I'm on it," Larry chuckled on the other end.

Phil clipped the comlink back to his belt with a roll of his eyes.

"That's got to be frustrating," the feline grinned coyly.

"You have no idea," Phil sighed.

"So, Phil…there's no guests on the penthouse level?"

"No, of course not," Phil shook his head, reaching across his desk to an open bag of dried popcorn, tossing one in the air. As the popcorn piece reached the apex of its toss, Phil's mouth opened and his tongue shot out, sticking to the piece of popcorn and snapping back into his mouth in the blink of an eye.

"Nice one," the feline remarked.

"Thanks."

The feline continued to stare, suspiciously at the head of security.

"What?" Phil inquired.

"Come on, Phil. Nine men and a butler on the floor for a _renovation_? You've got some kind of… playboy or something up there. Don't you?"

Phil laughed dismissively, shaking his head as he shrugged.

"Come on, a big spender?" The feline prodded, "Someone who wants the floor to themselves maybe? Did someone else come up with this whole "renovation" story? You sound too smart to have thought up something _that _unoriginal!"

"Hahaha, no, no no no. We've wanted to re-do that penthouse floor for some time. It hasn't really been touched up since the hotel was built. The security is just to preserve floor integrity and for insurance purposes," Phil explained.

"Uh huh," the panther said, his gaze sliding up to the ceiling. Amongst the ceiling panels above was a large ventilation grate, big enough for a person to fit through. As the feline looked up, he noticed a shadow passing over the grate, and spidery gloved fingers reaching through the holes to grip the mesh of the vent. The panther said nothing, and returned his gaze to the head of security with a knowing smile.

"And who has access to the floor?" the feline inquired.

Phil got up, his gaze growing ever more and more skeptical. "Look, we're getting into some very sensitive information here. I think I need to see your credentials again."

"Well, if you could just tell me who has access to the floor…" the feline trailed off.

"_I_ have the only access card. And I relieve all of the employees working on the floor _myself_. Now, can I see your identification, please?" Phil demanded.

The panther looked up for just a moment, seeing that the ventilation grate had been silently removed and withdrawn into the ducts. The tip of a long, whip-like tail, clad in a tight black stealth suit, was slowly sliding out of the duct.

"Of course," the feline smiled, gracefully scratching the side of his face as he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his CSB credentials. As the feline pulled his hand away, a distinctive black powder was caked onto his claws.

"Hey," Phil remarked oddly, staring at the feline's face, "You've got a scar."

"Oh, yes," the feline chuckled dismissively, displaying a curved, white half-moon shaped scar that curled under his eye and around the left side of his mouth, "I cover it up. It's quite inconvenient most of the time."

Phil looked at the CSB credentials and back at the feline, his gaze brooding and scrutinizing.

"You look a little familiar…" Phil mused.

"You know, this reminds me of a joke," The feline offered, "A female gives birth after several hours of labor. The doctor takes the infant and leaves to perform some tests. After a while the doctor returns with the child, and then suddenly begins to punch it, kick it, and throw it around the room. Finally, he slams it up against the wall, smearing it with blood. The woman screams, "My God, what are you doing to my baby?!" The doctor replies, "Just kidding. The baby was already dead!"

As the feline finished his joke and Phil Lizewski's face contorted in a look of disgust, a black shadow suddenly dropped from the open ventilation grid, landing almost silently behind Phil before leaping forward.

A thin arm locked around Phil's amphibian neck and a long, whip-like tail slid around his waist as the squishy impact of a blade entering flesh could be heard. Phil's eyes swelled with surprise and his mouth opened as he looked into the reptilian eyes over his shoulder, and he began to wheeze and hyperventilate softly.

"Get it?" the nasal, slightly high-pitched voice of Leon Powalski hissed as he withdrew the long, thin blade from Phil Lizewski's back. Leon stared into the frog with a feral glare, feeling a rush of ecstasy and adrenaline as his eyes went dead, as if Leon had sucked the life out of Phil Lizewski to fill the empty black void within himself. He knew that it would only last a minute or two; it was never enough to satisfy him in any permanent manner. But in those two minutes before he went numb again, Leon would feel more alive than any other being in the galaxy. He let Phil Lizewski fall to the ground with a soft thump against the brown carpet, only the smallest amount of blood seeping out of the hole in his back.

"I kind of wanted to slit his throat," Leon remarked with a forlorn sigh, "I've always found the spray to be a thing of beauty. The body really is fascinating."

"_Delightful_," Panther Caruso remarked deadpan, putting away the fake set of CSB credentials and pulling out a thin silver case the size of his palm. He opened it up, pulling out a black-papered kretek and putting it between his lips, then pulled out a burner and lit the cigarette with a dull hiss of flame. He took a drag off of the kretek and blew the thick smoke softly out of his nose.

"I'm glad you chose to just pierce his lung instead of slit his throat; makes this whole "low profile" thing a lot easier if you don't splatter entrails all over the walls," Panther remarked, pinching the kretek between two fingers and letting it burn for a few moments as he exhaled the slightly blue smoke.

Crouched down at Phil Lizewski's body, plucking the security keycard off of his belt, one of Leon's eyes looked up at the cigarette in Panther's paw.

"That's a _disgusting _habit, Panther," Leon remarked coldly, quickly licking the blood off of his knife and sliding it back into the sheath on his belt.

"You're one to talk, Leon," Panther smirked dismissively, staring down at the body at his feet.

Leon ignored him and began to strip Phil Lizewski down, pulling off his black clip-on tie, his burgundy blazer and unbuttoning his white collared shirt with its bloodstained back.

"Leon…you know you don't have to prove anything to me, right? I'm already convinced you're the biggest psychopath in Lylat; you don't need to sodomize a corpse to prove it to me," Panther smirked.

"I think it's a bit odd if I walk out there wearing a stealth suit with knives and gun holsters, don't you agree?" Leon snapped, "When people do that, big guys with even bigger _guns_ tend to appear. Plus, what makes you think I _haven't_ sodomized a corpse?"

"I…could've lived my _whole_ life without hearing that little chestnut," Panther replied, taking a drag with a grimace.

"_You_ pried," Leon shrugged, undoing the corpse's belt and pulling off his pants, reducing him to his undershorts.

"I suppose it makes sense for _you _to do that," Panther sneered, "A dead body can't say _no_."

"If you're so curious about what you can do when you're dead, I can help you out, Panther," Leon hissed, slipping into the dead man's pants, pulling them up and tightening the belt around the waist. The oversized pants, much bigger than Leon's waist, bunched up as the belt constricted. Leon then began buttoning the bloodstained shirt on himself as Panther reached into the bag of popcorn on the security desk and threw a morsel into his open jaws.

"I'll pass," Panther shrugged, chewing, "I've still got plenty of _live _bodies to enjoy before I'm ready for that."

In a swift movement, Leon clipped the tie on and threw the burgundy blazer over his shoulders, then stood up to full height. Phil Lizewski had been a much wider person than Leon, and a few inches shorter, resulting in an outfit that hung, baggy off of Leon's sides and stretched to accommodate his height. It almost drew more attention than walking into the lobby with knives and guns would have.

"You look like you just killed the head of security and stole his clothes," Panther said, taking a hard drag of his kretek.

"It'll have to do. Come on, help me hide it," Leon said, gesturing to the body.

Panther gave the chameleon a confused, irritated look.

"_Yes_, that means put out your fucking cigarette and help me!" Leon snarled, gripping the body from under its arms and heaving it upwards, "Get his feet."

Panther rolled his eyes and glanced around for an ashtray; finding none, he stuck it in the bag of popcorn. He then kneeled down and picked up the frog by his feet, heaving him over towards a large closet in the corner of the room. Leon stopped for a moment, opened the door, and backed into the closet, standing Phil Lizewski somewhat upright. Panther shoved the body in the rest of the way, and Phil Lizewski slumped downwards, his mouth hanging slackly open, his eyes half-shut. Blood still seeped from the hole in his back. Leon almost tripped over the corpse coming out of the closet, and Panther snickered almost inaudibly. He stopped after Leon shot him a murderous glare. As they began to walk towards the door out to the lobby, Leon stopped and looked back at Panther.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he inquired incredulously.

"What?" Panther inquired.

"Your _cigarette_. They can get DNA off of it," Leon growled.

"Oh," Panther remarked, grabbing the bag of popcorn off of the security desk. Leon shook his head in disgust, then opened the door to the security office and walked out into the lobby. They walked at a brusque pace, but not fast enough to draw attention to themselves, gliding past the front desk and the rodent named Gary before exiting through the main building's automatic glass doors. As they strode confidently through the sunshine for a brief few moments, Panther tossed the bag of popcorn into a waste disintegrator, hearing an electric sizzle as the snack and the cigarette was vaporized. Most of the sky was blocked out by the monumental Tenozu Tower in front of them as they traveled across the paved sidewalks and into the glass doors and basic lobby of the Tower. During their journey, no one gave them a second glance, despite Leon's poor-fitting clothes. Not stopping for anything, they traveled across the white granite floors to the turbolifts, pressing the call button and seeing the metal double doors slide open with a clichéd ding.

They filed inside and pressed the button for the penthouse level. There was a buzzing sound, and the turbolift refused to move. Leon unclipped the keycard from his belt and slid it into a slot above the panel of buttons, then pressed the penthouse button again. The button lit up and the turbolift began to ascend. With no need for a disguise anymore, Leon began to strip off the dead frog's clothes. The numbers of the floors began to rapidly count upwards as the turbolift climbed.

"Oh yeah, by the way," Panther remarked, "I set the PHR to record _The Fishbowl_ a while ago, but I couldn't find it when I tried to watch it last night. You didn't delete it, did you?"

"No," Leon said emotionlessly, tearing the white collared shirt off, "Wolf did."

"What?!" Panther snapped with outrage, "Why?!"

"Because _CCPD Blue _was on at the same time and Wolf and I always watch it together," Leon shrugged, "The PHR can't record two shows at once, we got the cheap one, remember? I thought _The Fishbowl_ was on at eight."

"It was a two hour episode. It was the _season finale_," Panther growled.

"It's a reality show, it's not that important. You know that they partially script it too, don't you?" Leon shrugged, pulling the oversized pants off.

"Well, if Wolf wanted to watch hookers get killed, he could just spend the day with _you_!" Panther snapped, "It was _my_ show, so I don't _care _if it was scripted!"

"It's _Wolf's_ holoprojector. _Wolf's _InterLink."

"He doesn't even pay for it, he just figured out a way to intercept the signal, so it's not _his_," Panther pouted.

"Then take it up with him."

"The two of you watch _CCPD Blue_ when it's on, why do you have to record it?" Panther ranted quietly, spreading his arms in disbelief, "It was the _season finale_, Leon."

"Panther? I'm finding this _really_ hard to care about," Leon returned monotonously.

"What?" Panther inquired.

"I don't _care_," Leon clarified, "Stop talking. Like, right now."

The fur on the back of Panther's head began to bristle with annoyance and his feline eyes narrowed with hostility. But he stayed quiet as the turbolift continued its climb up the Tenozu Tower. After a moment, the turbolift began to slow at floor 185, the numbers on the holographic floor counter decreasing in speed. The lift suddenly stopped at floor 190, and Panther and Leon exchanged confused glances. The penthouse level was on floor 206.

Before they could say anything to express their perplexity, the doors slid open to reveal a pair of middle-aged female canines, a tall collie and a rather stout grey bulldog, smiling and laughing to themselves. They both wore conservative though elegant cocktail dresses, the collie in white and the bulldog in powder blue, with expensive pearl earrings and necklaces adorning their faces. Both females wore identical-looking white high heeled shoes that softly thumped across the floor as they began to move into the turbolift.

"We're going up," Panther informed quickly, tilting his head in the hopes that they would look at him, not the black-clad, weapon-toting chameleon standing next to him.

"Oh, that's fine," the collie giggled, "We'll ride it back down. The wait for a lift here is _impossible_, they should really build more."

Without another word, the two females confidently strode into the lift and continued their conversation.

"But anyway, darling, my doctor the other day, he said that my caffeine addiction is negatively impacting my anxiety disorder," the bulldog smiled, fiddling with her necklace.

"Well, what did you do?" the collie inquired.

"I asked if we could talk about it over coffee!" she answered, and they began to giggle in unison.

Leon and Panther looked at one and other as the turbolift doors began to close.

"This is…_interesting_," Panther remarked quietly, nervously.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Leon inquired.

"No," Panther returned, "But I don't have anything and we're running out of time, so whatever you're going to do, do it _fast_…"

In a rare display, Leon smiled, and Panther suddenly felt uncomfortable. He adjusted his tie as the floors on the holographic display began to count upwards once more.

Only then did the two females appear to truly notice them. The bulldog stared at Leon curiously, cocking an eyebrow in interest.

"Honey," the bulldog inspected, "Are you in the show? The fetish show downstairs?"

"Nope," Leon answered, stroking the handle of the holstered blaster on his hip.

* * *

Two guards, a black-furred primate and a brown-furred leporid, sat on either side of the empty alcove in fold-out chairs, both dressed in khaki pants and navy blue polo shirts with the white words HOTEL SECURITY emblazoned on the breast and back. In between the two was a pair of carved mahogany doors that led to the expansive penthouse occupied by Bruce Rhinebeck and his entourage. Neither guard knew exactly why Bruce Rhinebeck had requested so much protection and the entire penthouse floor to himself; they had heard rumors that Rhinebeck was a witness or an informer of some sort against a crime boss in the cartels, however they couldn't be positive. As the leporid stared in a bored manner at the white carpets, the pale peach-colored walls of the alcove and the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling above the three turbolift doors, the ape read the latest edition of the _Galactic Star Journal_ on a datapad in his lap. The ape had wanted to get a wrist-mounted data assistant or maybe even a personal holodisplay, however they were both far too expensive for someone of his pay grade. The datapad wasn't awful, though. The simple LCD screen could strain his eyes, however, if he looked at it too long. He shifted in his seat, brushing against the grip of the Cygnet Model 16 blaster pistol holstered at his side. He'd never had to draw the blaster; he couldn't remember a time before now that he'd been issued one for security detail. Bruce Rhinebeck had requested that all personnel guarding him be armed, but the ape was a terrible shot. He never really had much of a taste for blasters.

The ape scrolled down on the datapad, reading about a recent incident at Palisades University in Corneria City. A group of students had been protesting for three days against a new university policy that would monitor the reading habits of certain students and the curriculums of certain professors and submit reports to the Commonwealth Security Bureau every semester. Among the acts of protest that included dropping cans of paint onto campus buildings from skycars and vandalizing the university's janitorial droids, several students built a bonfire in the middle of the campus and burnt their university IDs along with several holodisks and computer memory drives belonging to the university library. On the fourth day, the protesters were suspended from the university and told to leave the property. When the protesters refused, the Corneria City Metro Police were called in, and proceeded to stun gas the entire crowd of more than fifty students and professors. In the chaos that followed, three protesters were hospitalized. Most were calling the police response excessive, however many also labeled the protesters as terror-loving, left-wing anarchists.

The ape sniffed and pressed the sports icon on the touch-sensitive screen, calling up the highlights from the G-Zero race on Titania last night. He hadn't been able to watch the race due to working the night shift; it looked like it was going to be a similarly long, boring day. As the screen changed and several vidclips of the race began to come up, a soft, dinging tone reached his ears, and the ape looked up in puzzlement. Above the middle turbolift door, the glow panel had lit up to announce that the lift had arrived at the penthouse level.

"Did Phil say anyone was coming up?" the leporid inquired out loud, getting out of his chair and walking slowly towards the doors. The ape stayed seated, his brow furrowing oddly. He hadn't heard of anyone coming up to the floor, not even room service. The leporid was halfway to the doors, blocking the ape's view when he heard them slide open smoothly. The leporid's ears went stiff and a shocked gasp erupted from his mouth as he hurried towards the open lift doors.

"Shit!" the leporid exclaimed, "Puck! Get over here!"

The ape slid the datapad under his chair and got up, quickly joining the leporid and letting out a gasp of surprise all his own when he beheld the sight of the turbolift: Two females, a tall collie in a white dress and a bulldog in a blue one, lay on the ground with blaster shots scorching their bodies and their dead faces contorted in shrieks of horror. One side of the turbolift car was pockmarked with blaster shots, some still lightly smoldering from recent blaster fire.

"Oh, my _God_," Puck groaned, "Are they still breathing?"

"Of course they're not breathing, they're fucking _dead_, dumbass!" the leporid snapped, looking back at him, "Get the others, I'll hold the lift here."

Puck nodded and began to slowly back away, watching as the leporid stepped into the turbolift car. The moment that the rabbit did, however, there was a twanging pop as a green blaster bolt shot through the ceiling of the turbolift and into his face with a shower of sparks.

"Mark!" Puck cried in shock, sprinting back towards the entrance of the car to check on the collapsed leporid.  
As Puck reached Mark's smoking body, Leon Powalski dropped down into the lift from an open maintenance panel in the ceiling, the blade of a push dagger protruding from between his fingers. In a lightning-fast, liquid movement, Leon lunged forward and punched the blade of the push dagger through Puck's forehead and into his brain, shoving the ape hard into the white carpets with an audible thud. Leon exhaled coldly, ripping the dagger out of the dead ape's skull and wiping the blood and tiny bits of brain matter off on the ape's polo shirt.

"Nice one," Panther Caruso complimented as he hopped down into the turbolift car from the maintenance hatch, a chromed MacTech 23-E blaster pistol in his hand, the end of the long, slender barrel still smoking from the recent discharge.

"Same to you," Leon remarked, "I didn't think that blaster had that kind of power in it."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Panther inquired sternly, stepping over the corpses of the two canines and flipping the emergency stop switch on the turbolift, holding the lift at the penthouse level.

"Well, the 23-E _is_ more of a ladies' weapon," Leon smirked, looking down at the smoking black hole in the leporid guard's face.

"Shut up," Panther hissed, stepping out of the turbolift and leading Leon over to the twin double doors, "It gets the job done."

A slight crackling sound could be heard as the small earpiece comlinks in both Leon and Panther's ears received the same transmission of a gruff, drawling voice demanding, "Ya mind tellin' me just what tha' _fuck _you're doin? I've been sittin' up here for what feels like a damn hour."

"There was a bit of a complication, Wolf," Leon replied softly, his eyes loosing just a fraction of their hardness and cruelty, "We took care of it. About to breach the penthouse now."

"What are _you_ complaining about? You've just been hanging out on the roof the whole time," Panther remarked, "Why is it that _you_ get to do that, again?"

"'Cause I'm the only one that knows how ta' do a HALO jump from _space_," Wolf shot back over the comm., "In _your_ case, I'm at least the only one with tha' _balls_ to."

"Touchy, touchy," Panther shrugged, "Don't get so defensive, Wolf. You might drool all over yourself."

"Here's a novel thought:" Wolf snarled, "Do your fuckin' job and get in there. Now."

"You've got it," Panther replied, "Hope your swingline's ready."

Wolf didn't reply, and after a moment Leon and Panther approached the doors quietly, scrutinizing them with careful studiousness.

"How many did the head of security say were in there?" Leon inquired slowly.

"Six in the hallway," Panther informed him, "Two more in the penthouse. Doesn't this guy have bodyguards of his own?"

"He probably has one or two. Maybe three," Leon estimated.

"So there's at least eleven guys to work through before we get to Rhinebeck?" Panther remarked.

"Possibly," Leon nodded.

"God, we should've just done an attack run on the whole floor with the Wolfens," Panther muttered.

"We've _got_ to confirm the kill," Leon lectured quietly, "We only get paid if Connolly sees proof that Rhinebeck's been neutralized."

"I know, I know," Panther sighed, "I'm just saying I'd rather be doing this with star fighter cannons than with blaster pistols. That's probably what you'd need to get through _eleven guys_. We should have _grenade launchers_ for this kind of thing. Or at least blaster rifles."

"Panther. You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Pissing and moaning when I really don't care."

"Ugh. Fine. Six guys in there?" Panther asked, "What if you jump in and go sick house on them, and I cover you? Can you do that?"

Leon looked at him with an insulted, disgusted look, then hissed, "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? After six years working together, you don't _realize _what I'm _capable _of? I'm the scariest fucking thing on two legs, Panther."

The feline raised his hands in surrender, smirking as he rolled his golden eyes.

"How could I forget?" Panther replied dryly, tearing off his crimson tie and shoving it into his pants pocket.

Leon stepped back from the doors a bit, pulling out the long, thin dagger that had killed Phil Lizewski in his left hand and the VenArms SK-7 blaster pistol that he'd kept since his days in the Venomian Army. He crouched down, his long, whip like tail curving scythe-like around his left side. Panther tightened his grip around the 23-E blaster pistol and adjusted the rose-shaped pin on his lapel. He grounded his stance, paused for a second, and then looked back at Leon.

"You ready?"

"And _waiting_, sweetheart."

"Leon…" Panther cringed, "Please _never_ call me that again. Save the pet-names for Wolf."

"Open the goddamn door before I cut your head off," Leon snapped.

_Ooh, seems I've struck a nerve. Does that mean you _do _have pet-names for Wolf? _Panther thought to himself. He would've said it out loud if he wasn't one hundred percent sure that Leon would follow up on his threat.

"Here goes nothing," was Panther's only murmured utterance before he lunged forward with his foot and delivered a solid heel kick to the seam between the two wooden doors. With a splintering of metal, the two doors flew open to reveal a short hallway with six guards (almost all male canines of various breeds except for a male badger and a green-plumed avian) standing two by two, who all whipped their heads around in surprise to see them.

What happened next took less than eight seconds.

Leon took two giant steps before diving forward through the air, sailing at almost two meters above the floor as Panther fired a green laser bolt into the chest of the first guard on the right. Leon flew through space, swiping out with his dagger and cutting open the throat of a tan-furred bloodhound, the first guard on the left. A spray of red from the bloodhound's neck painted a scarlet wave onto the opposite peach-colored wall as the German shepherd guard with a blaster-burnt breast slammed into the carpet. The chameleon landed finally and rolled forward in between the second row of guards, coming to his feet and pouncing towards the badger on the left, burying the dagger into the badger's femoral artery as his tail swept the legs out from under the American bulldog to the right. Leon's right arm finally moved into action, raising his SK-7 blaster and firing a red blaster bolt into the head of the third guard on the left at the end of the hallway just as he was pulling his own blaster out of its holster. The final guard on the right, the avian, was far too focused on Leon as he tried to draw his gun that he didn't even see Panther fire two shots into his torso that slammed his body up against the wall. On the seventh second of the whole ordeal, Panther fired two bolts into the body of the stunned American bulldog.

There was an odd, eerie silence as Leon retrieved the dagger from the badger's bleeding groin, his eyes hollow as his femoral artery quickly bled out. Leon rose to his feet, the small spikes on his vertebrae twitching slightly as he stared around at the six fresh bodies around him, some smoking, some bloody. A wave of euphoria and adrenaline washed over him, so much that something between his legs got a little stiff, and Leon shuddered as he licked the edge of his mouth.

In that brief moment of ecstasy, Leon's only thought was of Wolf.

"Well, look at that," Panther remarked coldly, "You got to cut someone's throat after all."

The quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of commotion and panicked shouting from behind the pair of wooden double doors that led into the penthouse suite. Leon and Panther both aimed at the doors in preparation for someone to come through them as their earpieces began to crackle slightly, and a synthetic, sophisticated voice remarked, "**So much for stealth, I suppose. Transmissions indicate that the San Saldemere Police have been called, and that probably means that Tenozu Tower security would like to have a few words with you, as well. Taking the mean of the average police response time and the rate at which the building's turbolifts are being shut down, I'd estimate you have about ten minutes to waste everyone in that penthouse and get your asses out of there if you don't want to spend the rest of your lives in a judicial prison. However, it's merely a thought you might consider.**"

"Ya' know, IG, I'm gonna blame this on _you_," Wolf's voice came back over the comlink.

"**How is it **_**my**_** fault, Lord O'Donnell, that Comrades Powalski and Caruso couldn't be quiet enough or fast enough to avoid the police being called?**" the robotic operator of StarWolf's mother ship, the _Lone Wolf_ demanded indignantly.

"I didn't say it was your fault. I said I was gonna blame it on you," Wolf growled, a mix of snarky sarcasm and gruff annoyance at the situation.

"**Ah, yes, Lord O'Donnell, I forgot:**" IG replied, "**To err is mortal, to blame someone else shows good leadership skills.**"

Panther began to chuckle, practically forgetting the part about the police and the hotel security. He suddenly remembered the gravity of the situation as Wolf's voice suddenly roared in his ears, "ARE YOU ASSHOLES GONNA GET IN THERE, OR ARE YA' GONNA JUST WAIT FOR THE FUCKIN' COPS?!"

"Move it!" Leon shouted to Panther, racing towards the doors to the penthouse, "Wolf, we're going in now!"

Leon swung his leg forward and kicked the double doors inwards, diving into the living room of the expansive penthouse. In the brief milliseconds of the initial sprint into the penthouse, Leon was able to take in more than a few things: Exquisite off-white marble floors and pleasant forest-green walls decorated the luxurious abode. Along the same wall as the doors to the penthouse was a posh-looking bar stocked with all sorts of alcohol and drinking glasses, next to which the corner of the room was taken up by a wide entrance to a dark bedroom with an enormous bed. Three short stairs led down to a lower level of the living room, a white-carpeted area occupied by an antique, Imperial-era ebony grand piano, a high-tech surround sight holoprojector and a trio of large couches upholstered in Fortunan silk the same color as the walls. At the opposite side of the room from the double doors was a panoramic view of the San Saldemere skyline and the endless ocean of Aquas through an immense series of floor-to-ceiling windows. Just as Leon reached the first meter into the penthouse, he noticed the five guards taking cover behind the couches in the living room, their blaster pistols pointed in his direction.

The chameleon leapt to the side as the hail of blaster fire tore into the space he'd previously occupied, peppering into the walls with showers of dust, sparks, and smoke. He felt a single red blaster bolt flash past his face before he threw himself behind the bar, watching as the laser beams tore into the bottles and glasses, shattering them into thousands of pieces and occasionally setting the alcohol within on fire. Meanwhile, Panther was firing from behind the cover of the doorframe, vainly trying to return fire against the five assailants. As Panther peeked around the edge of the frame, firing two shots at the couches and hearing one guard let out a yelp, he saw a dark shape swing down outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The figure slung forward, attached to a thin monofilament cable, raising an object in its right hand as it swooped into the plate glass windows. A glob of bright green plasma suddenly plowed through the window panel, shattering it into millions of pieces, and the figure cut the monofilament line as it swung into the living room behind the guards, landing on the carpet with heavy, booted feet.

There was almost a moment of pause as the scruffy, muscular grey wolf rose to his full height, his harshly pointed ears perking up as his rough tail twitched. The wolf wore separated spiked shoulder pads made of narcium, an incredibly strong and light metal that could resist all but the most powerful blaster shots, and a bluish grey blast-resistant vest over a black A-shirt, with tight armorweave trousers secured by a metal belt buckle. A heavy backpack was secured to the wolf by two black straps under his shoulder pads, and just above the tops of thick combat boots that reached to his upper thighs were kneepads with a short spike protruding from each of them. Poking through black fingerless gauntlets were the digits of strong hands, each tipped with a short but razor-sharp claw, and around his neck hung a gold, vaguely triangular locket on a silver chain. Most distinctive, however, were the wolf's eyes: the right eye was hard, fierce, and somewhat narrow, but of a vibrant lavender color. Where the left eye should've been, there was instead a glowing blue cybernetic optical implant.

Time suddenly resumed as Wolf O'Donnell flashed a wicked grin of sharp, canine teeth.

The five guards that had been hiding behind the couches, (a tall and bulky sand-colored equine, a German shepherd, a rodent, a ram and an ape, all wearing similar suits except for the rodent and the German shepherd, who wore identical uniforms to the rest of the hotel security) their backs turned to Wolf, now whipped around in surprise and began to attack.

Wolf raised his heavily modified Cornerian ArmsCor DC-15 blaster pistol with its attached bayonet, leveling it at the ram and watching through the blue-hued vision of his left eye as the digital crosshairs slaved to the gun barrel lined up with the ram's upper chest. He pulled the trigger and felt the blaster kick slightly as a thick green plasma bolt flashed out of the end and exploded into the ram's torso, throwing the bodyguard off his feet and across the floor.

The rodent hotel guard rushed forward at Wolf's left side as the equine darted to his right, the German shepherd closely behind the rodent. The rat pulled his pistol up and attempted to shove it into Wolf's side for a point-blank shot, and was completely unprepared for Wolf to grab him by the wrist with his left hand and swing the rodent around until he was at Wolf's back; immediately afterwards Wolf delivered a swift rearwards kick into the rat's stomach that launched him backwards and through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The window shattered in a different direction this time and the rat tumbled screaming almost 900 meters to the ground as Wolf hopped up towards the tall equine, coming level with his face before jabbing the bayonet at the end of his pistol into the bottom of the horse's jaw and firing. A familiar sizzling pop coincided with a sickening crunching noise as the plasma bolt tore through the horse's head and out through the top, scattering hair, pieces of skull and brain matter and a cloud of maroon blood into the air before the shot blasted a watermelon-sized hole into the ceiling. Only one of Wolf's feet touched the ground as he came down from his jump, the other already swinging around and plowing into the German shepherd's ribcage. Wolf's foot connected with a satisfying crunch of bone, cracking at least two of the canine's ribs and knocking him roughly into the expensive holoprojector.

Wolf planted his foot back onto the ground, seeing the suited primate guard with his mouth agape and his eyes wide in shock, slowly raising his Cygnet Model 16 blaster pistol. The StarWolf leader bounded towards the ape with two large, lunging strides, smacking the primate's right hand and the blaster held in it away with his own bloodstained blaster pistol, slicing into the guard's arm with the bayonet before tightly extending and grouping together the fingers of his left hand and jabbing them into the ape's neck. The razor sharp claws of Wolf's fingers sunk into the ape's neck like they would through water, stabbing through his trachea, his carotid artery, his jugular vein. Already feeling the hot, sticky rush of blood on the fingers of his left hand, Wolf swung his right arm back around and fired a shot into the chest of the disabled, but still-alive German shepherd. The canine expired with a high-pitched yelp as the verdant plasma bolt impacted with a tiny explosion of bright green fire, and then Wolf whipped around to the primate's side, tearing his claws out of the ape's neck. A rough gurgle escaped the primate's lips as a torrent of almost black fluid soiled the pure white carpets even more than previously, his body hitting the floor like a fallen tree.

The still-hot blood dripping from his fingers, staining the barrel of his blaster, filling his sensitive nostrils with its smell and the scent of adrenaline, sweat, fear and triumph made Wolf's eye swell with intensity. At some point, he might regret having to kill these people. He preferred not to kill if possible, despite the fact that he would never hesitate to do so if required by an assignment or survival. Now, however, Wolf was totally absorbed by the animal inside, the bloodthirsty, violent beast that ignited his brain and jack-hammered his heart and turned him into a force of nature every time he gave into it.

He slowed his ragged breathing, darting his eyes up and spotting shadows moving across the bedroom walls. Wolf stormed up the short stairs and in the direction of the arching entrance to the bedroom, barking, "Panther! Leon!"

Leon Powalski came out from behind the bar, a slight smile on his face as he looked at Wolf and at the four people he'd slaughtered, and Panther Caruso strode into the penthouse with a cautious look out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Though the lights were out in the dark bedroom, the luminescence of glow panels in the refresher and the large walk-in closet made it easier to see. Wolf led them into the polished, white-floored refresher, the walls covered in dark blue tiles and the sink, toilet and multiple-nozzle turbo-shower made of black porcelain. Cowering in the corner of the refresher were two-white furred leporids, a male and a female dressed in expensive clothes. Their eyes were bulging with terror as they beheld the fearsome figure of Wolf approaching them, their breaths heavy and gasping.

"Bruce Rhinebeck?" Wolf inquired.

"Oh, God, don't kill me, please! Pleasepleaseplease don't kill me, oh God, please don't kill me," was the male leporid's only reply, "I've got a family, please don't kill me…"

"Are you Bruce Rhinebeck?" Wolf demanded forcefully, ignoring his pleas and raising his bloodstained blaster pistol.

"Ohhhh, God, please!" the leporid squealed, burying his face in the female's shoulder and holding up his hand, "Yes! Yes, that's me! Please don't kill me!"

"Thanks," Wolf nodded, "Leon."

Leon quickly raised his blaster pistol and fired a red blaster bolt into the female's skull, snapping her head backwards and smacking it into the tiled wall. Bruce Rhinebeck let out a scream that shook the room as Wolf raised his blaster and fired into the leporid's chest, creating a sickening pop and a brief cloud of smoke. As the horror-worn visage of Bruce Rhinebeck slumped against the wall, Wolf activated the integral holocam in his optical implant and captured a shot of the dead leporid.

As the picture was transmitted to the central computer on the _Lone Wolf_ hundreds of kilometers above, Wolf looked at the female leporid with a frown. Killing females always rubbed him the wrong way, even more so than killing people in general. It wasn't as if he had a choice though. Connolly had said no witnesses, and Wolf wasn't about to complain about that part either: It would help StarWolf's reputation for Connolly to tell his associates that StarWolf had pulled this job; it would only help the police and the CSB for any witnesses to talk about who had done this.

"Alright, let's go," Wolf instructed, "IG, how's our ride outta here?"

"**On time, Lord O'Donnell. The remote pilot program is working without a hitch. I don't suppose I'll receive credit for this part of the mission actually going like it's supposed to, will I?**" IG inquired over the comlink.

"I dunno, hold your breath an' find out," Wolf remarked.

"**Given that I don't breathe, Lord O'Donnell, I'm going to assume that my answer is in the negative?**" IG probed.

"Well, look at that," Wolf smirked, "We got ourselves a genius."

As they walked through the bedroom, there was a rustling from within the closet, and all three of them leveled their blasters towards the open doorway.

"_Another_ damned guard?" Panther remarked, "We're just jacking up the hazard pay as high as it can go, aren't we?"

Wolf's eye narrowed as he slowly approached the closet, peeking inside and seeing only racks of clothes.

"An awful _short _guard, if that's the case," Wolf growled.

"Dad?" a small voice inquired, "Are you okay?"

Wolf's blood ran cold and he froze in mid-step, watching as the tip of a white ear poked out from between a pair of jackets. Slowly, another ear appeared beside it as a small head peeked out from in between the racks of clothes.

"Shit," Wolf murmured.

The leporid boy couldn't have been more than eight years old or so. As he appeared from between the jackets in a pair of Zombie Chaos pajamas, Wolf quickly shoved his blaster into the holster slung low on his hip, a move that Panther quickly mimicked. Leon was the only one who kept his blaster aimed at the child; however he lowered it slightly and kept it closer to his side, decreasing its visibility. The young kit had very large, confused blue eyes that stared out at them with fear and bewilderment as he looked from Leon to Panther to Wolf. The kit's eyes grew only larger as he focused on Wolf, who quickly hid his blood-soaked left hand behind his back. The kit didn't seem any less scared of him.

"Are you going to hurt me?" the leporid boy inquired, "Where's my mom and dad?"

None of them had any answers for the boy, and as he stepped closer to them, Wolf and Panther stepped backwards as if the boy had something contagious. Leon continued to scrutinize the kit indifferently, his blaster still softly trained on him. The kit stopped and just stared from Wolf to Leon to Panther and back again, his shoulders moving up and down as he nervously breathed and waited for some sort of response from any of the three of them.

"Stay in here, kid," Wolf growled softly, "C'mon, Leon." They slowly backed out of the closet, looking to each other, at a loss.

"What tha' fuck do we do?" Wolf inquired.

"Connolly said no witnesses," Leon remarked monotonously.

"He can identify us," Panther added, "Leon _does_ have a point."

"Are you fucking kidding?!" Wolf snarled, then lowered his voice to a whisper, "We're not gonna kill a fucking _kid_!"

"Well what _do_ we do?" Panther hissed, "Pull him aside and say "Hey kid, sorry about your parents, can it be our little secret?"

"If it wasn't possible to just replace it with an implant, we could cut out his eyes so he couldn't identify us," Leon mused.

"Have any of ya' ever killed a kid?" Wolf demanded with incredulity. Leon promptly raised his hand.

Wolf rolled his eyes in disgust and looked to Panther, "Well, I know _you_ haven't. I haven't either and I ain't about ta' start now."

"Wolf," Leon insisted, "If Connolly finds out, he'll flip."

"I'm gonna tell him up front that StarWolf draws tha' fuckin' line at child murder, I don't give a shit what he says," Wolf growled with a glare into Leon's blank eyes.

"Well, I hope you have a bright idea relatively soon," Panther purred, "Because I think I hear police sirens."

Wolf gritted his teeth, and then leered at the both of them. Panther was right. They didn't have much time.

"Cover tha' door from tha' livin' room. I'll be out there in a minute," Wolf ordered. The two didn't move, merely looked at him strangely.

"Am I talkin' ta' myself? Get your asses out there!!" Wolf snapped. They nodded and went into the living room as Wolf turned his gaze back to the closet and took a breath. He slowly walked back into the closet, seeing the white-furred kit sitting in the corner with his knees up against his chest. The kit's rabbit ears wobbled as his head looked up at Wolf and let out a short gasp. After breathing hard for a moment or two, however, the kit's respirations were barely audible, and all that Wolf could really take in were those big, confused blue eyes of his. He stepped towards the kit, his boots making slow, heavy thumps across the carpet that were maybe a bit louder than he wished they were. He reached the boy and crouched down to his level, trying to look at him. Wolf had beaten the best fighters that the Lylat System had to offer, and looked death in the eye a dozen times. For some reason, it was so hard to meet this boy's gaze.

He had no idea what to say to him. Wolf was still confused as to why he hadn't just left the boy there in the closet without as much as a word. Long ago, when Wolf was a cub around this boy's age, he'd dreamt of joining the legendary James McCloud and the original StarFox Team, going out to save the Lylat System. He'd dreamt of proving wrong everyone that said he was just wolf trash by becoming something great. He occasionally found himself reflecting on how things had turned out since those childhood dreams, and it didn't trouble him that much. But it just felt _wrong_ not to at least _say _something, to have the courage to accept what he'd done in its entirety.

But he still didn't know what to say.

Luckily, the boy started for him.

"My mom and dad are gone, aren't they?" the kit inquired. Wolf could only nod.

"Why?" the kit asked. Wolf's muzzle opened slightly, and he paused, trying to think of something.

"'Cause…sometimes bad things happen ta' people that don't really deserve it. Sometimes, people don't get tha' good things that they _do_ deserve. Sometimes ya' don't get the life ya' deserve ta' live," Wolf mustered up quietly. The kit frowned, looking at the floor. Then he stared back up at Wolf with those deep blue eyes.

"What do you do when that happens?" the kit asked. Now it was Wolf's turn to look at the ground. He tried to think of something to say. He also had to go. He couldn't look weak in front of Panther and Leon. Couldn't afford to get caught, either. What would James McCloud have said?

Wolf gave a soft, crooked smile, and then looked back in the kit's eyes with some measure of sympathy.

"Never give up," Wolf growled tenderly. The kit's brow furrowed, and he looked back at the ground. Tears were starting to well up in his eyes. Wolf slowly got to his feet and began to walk out of the closet, then stopped when almost out of the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at the child.

"When ya' grow up…" Wolf added hesitantly, "I'll understand if ya' wanna settle tha' score."

The kit didn't say anything else. Wolf left the closet and went out into the living room, trying to shrug off the odd feeling that had compelled him to say something to the child in the first place. It proved difficult to shrug off.

Leon and Panther both followed Wolf with their eyes as he came down the stairs and joined them amongst the dead bodies of the five guards. He sent them both a glare that said the subject of the child was closed.

"How's the extraction, IG?" Wolf demanded.

"**Coming up to the extraction approach on the Tenozu Tower. I hope you're ready, sirs**," IG-N 96 replied.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, Wolf could see the flashing red and blue lights of several police skimmers as they flew through the skyline in the direction of the tower.

"Let's go, let's go," Panther prodded.

"Shut up," Wolf returned, clipping together a harness around his waist that connected to the straps on his backpack. Attached to each strap of the backpack was a steel carabineer, and Wolf unzipped a compartment in the side of the backpack and handed a strong synthetic fiber harness to both Leon and Panther. The two of them fit the harnesses on quickly enough, clipping them together and finally attaching themselves to the carabineers on Wolf's backpack straps.

"Alright, let's give this a shot," Wolf muttered, backing up towards one of the shattered glass panes until his tail was hanging full out the window, and reaching to the back of the backpack, gripping onto a handle on the rear. With a swift, yanking tug, Wolf pulled on the handle and heard a whoosh and a rush of fabric as the backpack fell open and a self-inflating balloon attached to a high-strength monofilament wire emerged, sailing out of the window of the Tenozu Tower and deploying up to the full extent of the cable's hundred-meter length.

They all heard the familiar sounds of a shrieking engine like the scream of a dying animal, getting progressively louder and louder as it approached.

"Well, _this_ should be interesting," Panther said, "A job well done?"

"Not quite," Wolf murmured.

From high above, the VenCom B-35 Wolfen belonging to Leon Powalski flew over the Tenozu Tower on remote pilot from the _Lone Wolf_, a distinctive V-shaped yoke attached to its underside. The Wolfen intercepted the balloon and the monofilament cable, catching it in between the two arms of the yoke and anchoring the cable to itself with a powerful electromagnet. In the penthouse below, the three members of StarWolf were abruptly yanked out the shattered window and into the open air, trailing below the Wolfen as it soared over the city of San Saldemere, past the confused police skimmers, and towards the extraction point over the Aquas ocean.

Even with the wind whipping through his fur and the excitement of flying through the air, Wolf could still not shake that odd feeling, like a weight in his chest.


	4. The Score

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guess what? I'm not dead. I know its been forever since I've updated. I feel horrible, but thats what multiple papers and a painful breakup does to your writing schedule. Anyway, the story really sort of begins with this chapter, where you finally get to know what StarFox's complicated mission is going to be. Several themes (drugs, the expansion of the CSB's power, the decay of Lylat society, all of which connect to the internal conflicts Fox and Wolf will be going through) will continue to be developed, as well as subplots with regards to several characters introduced, so enjoy where this story is going. For your soundtrack selections, listen to Gary Jules' "Mad World" for the sequence where Fox is watching holovision to the end of Morrow and Frost's first conversation. For the music that Wolf is listening to in his first segment, standing in for lupine Katinan indie rocker Morgan DeVayne is the awe-inspiring Florence Welch (of Florence + The Machine) and her song "Howl". I found the lyrics oddly fitting to a wolf singer. So, YouTube:

Mad World by Gary Jules, and

Howl by Florence and the Machine, and enjoy, boys and girls, I haven't given up on this thing yet.

* * *

**-The Score-**

"We're coming down to the last three minutes of the quarter, and so far the Pennopolis Riders have put up a _killer_ defense against the Cascabel Diamondbacks from Katina. Starting play on the third scrim, Diamondback runner Brian McCabe has returned from the sidelines for what fans hope will be a successful charge on the Riders' goal. The Riders, especially star thief Eric Redding, seem to be up to the challenge," the commentator intoned through the speakers of the high-definition holoprojector display in the _Great Fox_'s rec room.

Inside the brightly-lit, circular room decorated with pictures and memoirs of Team StarFox's career, Falco stood at the minibar mixing a Slush and Rum, drumming his feathered fingers on a bag of Cheezy Pooz. Fox slouched on the red sofa that curved around the holoprojector, his green eyes glued lazily to the octagon game displayed before him. Further down the couch, Slippy was reading an issue of _Metropolitan _holozine, downloaded onto his e-sheet reader. When inactive, an e-sheet looked like simply a large, flexible piece of clear folded plastic, however when loaded with a holozine or book, the electronic ink in the e-sheet activated to display text and pictures across both sides of the sheet. Turning a page was as easy as sliding a finger across the bottom of one of the sheets. Currently, Slippy appeared to be reading an article on rock musician David Fernandez.

Fox tried to focus on the game and not peek at his watch once more, hoping his mind wouldn't wonder towards the ever present question of "can we leave yet?" as the _Great Fox_ drifted in the edges of Corneria's territorial space, awaiting clearance to enter the orbital construction yards where Peppy awaited on the military's newest _Ajax_-class battlecarrier.

_It's not that big of a deal_, he tried to think, _It's not like you haven't been talking to Peppy for the past few months anyway. _

But it was a big deal, in its own way. With Peppy returning to the team, Fox was that much closer to correcting the past mistakes that had drove StarFox apart in the first place. Fox shook his head and tried to focus back on the octagon game, where the projected holograms of the two lines of opposing players smashed against each other to the cheers of fans. It wasn't long before his attention began to wonder. Fox was much more of a Corneria City Dukes fan; the game didn't really hold much interest for him.

"Before the game today, Eric Redding gave a short statement in reference to his recent acquittal on charges of sexual assault; he seemed happy to get back to his team and hoped that the female involved received the help she deserved," the commentator intoned as the footage zoomed in on the broad-shouldered equine in the Riders uniform.

"Aww, that's nice of him," another commentator mentioned.

Fox sighed and glanced out the viewport to the black field of stars beyond.

"Hmmh, David Fernandez says that in terms of girlfriends, he's looking for 'the _Tim Price_ of vaginas'…" Slippy muttered.

"What do _you _care about what type-a vagina David Fernandez is inta?" Falco remarked, sipping his Slush and Rum with a straw.

"Amanda's _obsessed _with him," Slippy sighed, "I want her to think that I _care_."

Falco sniffed and made a quiet sound like the crack of a whip as Fox said with a puzzled look, "Hold up. He wants a vagina that reminds him of a _guy_?"  
"No, he wants one that reminds him of _Tim Price_. It's that album by The Informers that came out a few years ago," Slippy shrugged.

"You know me, Slippy. I'm more of a Mirror Curve or a John Stephens kind of guy. I don't listen to The Informers. "

Slippy breathed out and looked askance, then answered, "It came out a few years ago and it was really popular. It won some sort of award or something, I think."

"So in other words he wants a really good vagina. An _award-winning_ vagina," Fox smirked.

"Nah, really everyone hated it," Falco smiled, "It sounded pretty dry. It smelled weird."

Fox suddenly burst out laughing along with Slippy as a smile appeared at the corners of Falco's beak and he coolly continued sipping his drink. Fox continued to giggle for a moment or two before shifting in his seat with a smile on his face.

"N' with that, I'm gonna check with ROB 'n see what our ETA is. Back in a bit, guys," Falco nodded, and then left through the doorway.

"Where's the remote?" Fox inquired, still smiling as he looked over to Slippy. Without a word, Slippy picked up the plastic white remote, tossed it across the couch to Fox, and slid a green finger across the e-sheet. Fox's red-furred fingers grasped the remote and clicked the channel button, and suddenly the footage of the octagon game disappeared. In its place was the holographic depiction of a huge diamond ring, surrounded by similar diamond earrings and necklaces.

"Buy her a diamond," a voice commanded from the speaker system, "It's what she _really_ wants. Only at Fale's Diamond Consortium. Every win begins with Fale's!"

Fox clicked the channel button again, and the commercial disappeared, replaced by a rather short, blond-furred ape speaking directly into the holocam, his bright blue eyes glaring down on Fox rather menacingly.

"There's a _reason_ that the God Lyla is named after Corneria's sun. In the Cornerian feudal era, Lylat was worshipped as the principal sun-god of the Cornerian people, and eventually _those_ beliefs evolved into Lylatianism, with a few elements like the dragon Kalimo and the angel of death, Anubis, carrying over from the old Cornerian mythology. It's why the Cornerian Empire chose to name our stellar neighborhood the _Lylat _System, as if they were putting their whole stamp on every planet," the ape lectured, "Now, my grandfather, despite his vast crimes, made it a point to question this type of arrogance. This belief that if there is a God, it is a God that favors Cornerians, and especially favors canines. Remember that Lyla is always depicted as a robed canine. Like my grandfather, I continue to question whether or not I want to believe in a God that favors others at my expense, a God that says, 'These are my chosen people. These are the people that know what I want,' when Corneria's past clearly shows that her people are _far _from predisposed to doing the right thing, or even upholding the values that they claim to embody. _That _is why I call on all apes to unite and _reject_ this flawed and archaic faith that says we're worthless dregs and chimpos. Because if God is a Cornerian and God is a canine, then God surely cannot exist anymore. If God is a Cornerian and if God is a canine, I maintain that God died a long time ago! God is _dead_, my brothers and sisters. We killed Her when we realized She's not worth believing in, because Her chosen people are not worth believing in. I repeat: God is dead." The ape's face shrunk and receded to the top corner of the projected image, replaced by a news anchor for the Central Broadcasting Authority, a golden retriever in a black suit and blue tie.

"That was the most recent statement by Dash Bowman, the leader of the Ape Liberation Front. Several responses by clergy and public officials to Bowman's statements have been offered, most citing the similarities between Bowman's political beliefs and the ideals promoted by his grandfather, Andross, in the years leading up to the Lylat War--"

The news anchor was cut off as Fox changed the channel once more. His smile was beginning to disappear. Another face appeared before Fox, this time an orange male tabby in a casual green polo shirt.

"Are things between you and your spouse going south? Are the power cells beginning to run out in your relationship? If you're not looking for a costly divorce, you might consider this option in order to tolerate your marriage: Have an affair." The tabby smiled cordially, "In this episode of _You Can Do It_, we'll explain some simple rules to follow in order to successfully carry on a secret relationship behind the cover of a marriage. First off, your secret will be a lot safer if you have a friend to cover your ass."

Fox's smile contorted to a full-on frown as he switched the channels again. The image changed to the anchor desk of the Lylat News Network, the LNN logo of a star surrounded by two ivy branches in the lower right corner. The footage zoomed in on the female anchor on the right, a grey feline wearing a pink suit, with a full head of blonde hair extensions flowing down to her shoulders.

"Tragedy in Pennopolis today; a local teenager whose name has not yet been released has died of an overdose of Substance D at Pennopolis General Medcenter today. Investigation by the Pennopolis Police Department determined that the teenager's parents were active in the selling of both Substance D and cotamine, which match the chemical make-up of the drugs that later killed the couple's child. This is the thirteenth minor this week in Pennopolis that has died of an overdose of Substance D," The feline's head lectured to Fox, her green eyes bearing down on him, "In related news, pop music star Lindsey Portman was re-admitted to the Mulholland Hills Rehabilitation Clinic in Oceana this week, for the third time this year. Portman was in negotiations to go on a long-awaited tour of Corneria, Macbeth and Zoness with fellow pop artist Dutchess DaDa, however a spokesperson for Portman informed LNN that she has withdrawn from the project. Portman's place will instead be filled by Dutchess DaDa's frequent collaborator Adam Colbert, much to the excitement of fans." Next to the feline's head was the image of a female fennec fox wearing what appeared to be a dress made out of bubbles and a male enhydra with purple eyeliner dancing on-stage.

_Is there anything on that _isn't_ empty or horrible?_ Fox thought, his muzzle twisted in an expression of full-out disgust as he clicked the channel button up.

Click.  
"—murdered," the projector stammered.

Click.

"Buy it."

Click.

"You know you want it."

Click.

Fox was practically zoning out by now, in sheer awe of the vacuous trash coming out of the projector. Why was everything like _this _nowadays? The projected image showed a wildly grinning adolescent female collie in a schoolgirl's uniform, dancing amongst a sea of balloons.

"Want me, love me, kiss me, hug me!" the collie girl cried joyously out at Fox.

"Hurry and get the _brand new _Annie Linguz Android doll! She wants to be your best friend! You'll love and play with her _forever_! Now available in models for both adults _and _children!" a male narrator urged from the speaker system.

The collie's face suddenly engulfed the entire projected image, her canine eyes bearing down on Fox like a predator on its prey.

"Stroke me, touch me, squeeze me, buy me!!!" Annie Linguz cried desperately to Fox, her eyes almost brimming with tears. At that moment, Annie's brow suddenly rippled with fury and her innocent mouth developed dagger-like teeth. With a maniacal growl her face leapt out of the hologram and she snapped her jaws at Fox's face.

Fox let out a cry as he jumped backwards in his seat, his yelp echoing around the room with shocking resonance.

"Woah!" Slippy exclaimed, his bulbous blue eyes larger than normal as he looked up, "What was that for?!"

Fox's eyes darted to Slippy, then back to Annie Linguz, still dancing innocently in the hologram before the commercial ended. His breathing slowed along with his heart rate, and he swallowed tiredly as he shook his head for a moment.

"What's wrong, Fox?" Slippy demanded softly.

"Nothing," Fox sighed, "Nothing, Slip. Sorry about that."

"You sure you're okay?" Slippy asked.

"Yeah," Fox nodded, "Don't worry about it."

Fox tried to ignore Slippy's concerned gaze as he stared down at the floor. Every so often, Fox was treated with a flashback hallucination from the dalianide that Wolf had drugged him with on Temple. It had been months, but some vague traces of it still remained persistently in his system for some reason. It would come up and bite him when he least expected it, treating him to the briefest glimpse of the waking nightmare he had endured at Wolf O'Donnell's claws. All that he could really do was shrug the visions off and try to move on.

Fox definitely didn't want to watch holovision anymore. It was all just noise, anyway, a peek at the ugly new face of the Lylat System. That was what everything sort of felt like; just noise as everyone scrambled for the _stuff _they wanted. No one needed anyone, they didn't even pretend to anymore.

What had happened to Lylat? There had been so many promises, so much _promise_ for some brave new world after the Lylat War. And yet, it just never seemed to happen. There was still speciesism. Still injustice and corruption from the pinnacles of society to its seedy undercurrents. It was just better hidden, as if all were in denial that it ever truly existed. And nobody really cared about that. The Aparoids had invaded barely a year ago; they were still rebuilding some parts of the system, and it was like it was already forgotten. If mass media was any reflection of how things were, people seemed to think less and feel less, and everyone was operating on a very primitive level. Fox couldn't understand it anymore, this brand new "Me Generation" of secrets and anger and paranoia, of sex and drugs and surface details. This was not the Lylat that he thought he'd saved. Fox wasn't even thirty and already felt behind the times.  
The worst was that he couldn't even name _what _specifically had gone wrong, if anything. It was more a totality of things going wrong rather than a single cause. Or maybe it had been like this all along and he just never noticed until now. Either way, he couldn't stop it, and he couldn't change it. He didn't know how.

How could StarFox save Lylat from _itself_?

Fox shook his head, exhaling uneasily, still under Slippy's concerned, silent stare as he sat back into the couch and licked his jaws. _It's not that bad, is it?_ Fox thought to himself, _It's just that HV's gotten worse. Doesn't mean all of Lylat's decaying. _

He tried to dismiss the feeling with another sigh.

It was just a bunch of things coming together: anxiety over keeping the team back in business, anxiety over Peppy's return, over the desire to find Krystal and make amends, combining with the flashback to give him this feeling that there was something seriously wrong with the whole system. He had no place to judge; Fox hadn't even been back to Corneria since shortly after Krystal left. He doubted that it could've changed _that _much since the Lylat War, let alone since the last time he was on-planet.

At the very least, he hoped so.

"Hey guys," Falco's voice came in over the intercom, breaking both Fox and Slippy's concentration and drawing their eyes to the speaker in the ceiling.

"Good news," Falco continued, "We just got tha' invite ta head over to tha' shipyard n' dock with tha' ship. They don't have a docking collar compatible with tha' _Great Fox_, so they want us ta' take the _Pleiades_. Port landing bay three."

Fox leapt to his feet, addressing both the intercom and Slippy, "Okay, let's get dressed and meet up in the landing bay. I want to get there as soon as possible."

Fox was already on his way out of the room as he finished, ignoring the still-concerned look from Slippy.

* * *

The flight operations control center of a Cornerian _Ajax_-class battlecarrier was one of the most sophisticated and advanced stations on any starship in the fleets of the Cornerian Army or Defense Force. A room much wider than long, the control center consisted of three lengthy, tiered rows of computer workstations, holographic displays and control equipment that could coordinate the operations of every one of the ship's 144 fighters and ninety six fighter-bombers from launch to landing. Dominating the front of the room was a floor-to-ceiling viewport that looked down onto the primary landing bay of the yet-unchristened _James McCloud_, a long grey tunnel that most of the huge, elongated ship was built around. During active service, the primary landing bay would be scattered with various ships and flight crews returning them to their proper hangar bays, and the flight control center itself would be a hive of glowing readouts and dozens of working technicians, rivaling the ship's bridge in activity. Instead, the viewport looked down onto a crowd of hundreds of mingling people making up the christening and commissioning party for the _James McCloud_, and the only occupants of the dim control center were a middle aged female arctic wolf and a badger of similar age.

"Agent Frost," Director Gillian Morrow inquired, her back to him and her golden yellow eyes scrutinizing the party gathered on the landing bay, "What do you think is the purpose that the CSB serves?"

The badger swallowed in the uncomfortable silence, adjusting the black tie around his neck.

"To investigate crime and gather intelligence vital to the safety of the Commonwealth," Special Agent Rupert Frost said carefully, regarding his boss with cautious brown eyes.

"That may have been what the CSB _originally _stood for," Morrow returned, "Things have changed in the Lylat System. It isn't as simple as the cartels and the space pirates, or unsteady relations between us and Fortuna or us and Macbeth or even us and Venom anymore. Our enemies are from the _inside_: Drugs, the cartels, anarchists, terrorists like the Zoness Separatist Movement, dissidents like the ALF and subversives posing threats on college campuses everywhere. We're at peace, Agent Frost, which means that we must protect that peace at all costs. The CSB's mission is not just to investigate crime and gather intelligence. It's to maintain that existing social and political order. To ensure the survival and dominance of the Cornerian Commonwealth, whatever it might take. That's why the Counter Intelligence Program was established; to _disrupt _whatever might threaten that order."

"Yes, Director."

Morrow looked back at Frost, the fabric of her olive-colored pantsuit folding along her back. The she-wolf's golden eyes could've looked into his soul.

"You were originally the liaison between the Team StarFox of James McCloud and the Ministry of Defense, isn't that correct, Agent Frost?" Morrow inquired.

"Yes, Director," Frost nodded.

"Since then, even though you were offered an assignment to the Counter Intelligence Program, you've become the chief liaison between the Ministry and almost all legal privateer groups with issued letters of marque. But you have something of a relationship with StarFox, isn't that correct?" the she-wolf interrogated softly.

"I worked with General Pepper and James McCloud to ensure that StarFox could conduct its reconnaissance work on Venom before the Lylat War. I supervised their final mission on Venom before Pigma Dengar went rogue. I saw it as my responsibility to inform Fox McCloud myself when his father disappeared. When General Hare reformed StarFox with Fox McCloud, I worked with them and got to know the both of them," Frost answered, keeping his response as to-the-point as possible.

"That's right. They trust you, don't they?"

"I worked with them; when they weren't receiving orders from General Pepper, they were receiving them from me. We're not personal friends. But in a professional sense, yes, I guess there's a level of trust."

"That's why I asked you to brief them and give them their assignment, Agent Frost. Peppy Hare and Fox McCloud know and trust you. If you're sending them out on a mission, it lends the impression that this is yet another time that Team StarFox is acting on the behalf of their Commonwealth. At the same time, however, your relationship doesn't cloud your ability to do your _job_. You understand why it has to be done this way," Morrow explained in a measured tone.

Despite the calmness of her low voice, there was a certain level of assuredness, almost menace in Gillian Morrow's words that made Frost uncomfortable.

"The Bureau needs to act in a way that avoids public outcry or political backfire. The only way for Team StarFox to carry this out this assignment the way we need is to only tell them what they absolutely need to know. It's all very… logical," Frost said.

Morrow smiled knowingly.

"You don't approve of my methods, do you, Agent Frost? That's why you turned down an assignment to the Counter Intelligence Program, isn't it?"

Frost's brow furrowed unsteadily, the white stripe down the middle of his face morphing in response to his expression. The she-wolf seemed to be waiting for a response, yet the manner in which she asked the question implied that she already knew the answer.

"I think that, sometimes, the tactics of the Counter Intelligence Program can appear more…_political_ than judicial," Frost answered hesitantly, choosing his words as if he were defusing a bomb, "I refused assignment because the Program seems more oriented towards attacking certain opponents in any way possible, rather than going after people that we know are doing harm based on facts. That's just my opinion, Director. I doubt the High Court would find anything wrong with your actions."

"I'm not concerned with the High Court, Agent Frost," Morrow responded precisely, her canine lips curving into the faint suggestion of a smile, "And the purpose of the Counter Intelligence Program is to disrupt those that would interfere, to pinpoint potential subversives and _neutralize_ them before they exercise their potential for violence. It is _immaterial_ whether facts exist to substantiate the charge. Now, you may disagree with me, Agent Frost, but remember your primary concern: StarFox may be heroes of Lylat. But it's _our _job to make Lylat _safe_. Becoming confused on this issue would be unwise."

Rupert Frost swallowed once more, adjusting his tie.

"Yes, Director," he responded.

"Now go," Morrow instructed, "Enjoy the party while you can. I'll let you know when we want to brief them."

* * *

"Peppy!" Fox cried as he spotted the aging leporid through the crowds of people on the _James McCloud's _primary landing bay. Clad in a tight-fitting black suit with a green shirt and a black tie, Fox pushed past a pair of stuffy-looking pigs enjoying caviar and made his way over to the grey rabbit in the red and gold uniform. Slippy, wearing a baggy navy blue suit, white shirt and yellow tie, hiked awkwardly through the masses close behind Fox towards the co-founder of the original StarFox Team and the current General of the Armed Forces. A grin appeared under the bushy moustache of Peppy Hare, his brown eyes twinkling behind full-moon glasses as he and Fox embraced. Fox let out a smile, closed his eyes and exhaled, feeling a flood of solace wash over as his bushy red tail swished in the moment. Out of his view, Slippy calmly beamed with contentment at the sight of Fox's subtle but clear elation. Peppy and Slippy locked eyes and there seemed to be some recognition of how good, how important, this was for their rebounding leader.

"It's good to get you back," Fox whispered.

"Feels good to come back," Peppy glowed, separating from Fox and looking him over. "Hmh, you've kept in shape in the down time, that's good. Your eyes look heavy though, have you been sleeping well?"

"Oh, uh, it's nothing major," Fox shrugged, neglecting to talk about the nightly dreams of Krystal and the hallucinogenic horrors endured on Temple. Just when he saw Peppy look to Slippy with a veiled level of concern, Fox spoke to change the subject.

"So…they're naming the ship after dad. I guess he would've liked that," Fox smiled, looking up at the ceiling of the expansive landing bay.

"I'm sure he would've. Good thing you showed up, too. The backup name in case you didn't give your permission was going to be the _Admonitor_. Yeesh," Peppy responded, then looked over to Slippy, inquiring, "And how are _you_ taking to being back on the team? We haven't really spoken since you and Amanda came to visit; I hear she tried to talk you out of coming back."

"She said I should get a "real job", whatever that is," Slippy answered sheepishly, "Like working at Space Dynamics with my dad or something, not running around the system playing hero. At least that's how Amy sees it. _I _think she just wants to stay close to me, and how can I blame her? She's my _wife_."

"At first, she wanted to live on the _Great Fox _as long as Slippy was on the team," Fox smirked. Peppy grimaced at the idea.

"That's what _I _thought," Fox chuckled, "Trying to work indefinitely stuck on a ship with _Amanda_ would be like trying to build a fire stuck in a cave with a varanis dragon."

As Peppy cackled softly, Fox turned his eyes to find himself a target of Slippy's bemused gaze.

"What? Slip, you've got to admit, she's clingy and overbearing in the worst way sometimes," Fox reasoned.

"Yeah, well only _I'm _allowed to say that."

"Where's Falco?" Peppy inquired.

"We lost him after he heard there was an open bar," Slippy returned with a roll of his enormous eyes. Peppy's smile began to fall a bit, his jaw working over in disquiet.

"You know, Falco and I, we only talked once after he left you. He said he'd been drinking a lot. Since he's come back, has…" Peppy trailed off slowly, "Has he been hitting the sauce a lot lately?"

Fox clenched his mouth with concern and swallowed.

"I've… noticed it. He's drinking more than I remember. But… I don't think it's a problem."

"But is he still drinking a lot?"

"… Maybe more than he used to."

Fox looked back on the past few months since Falco rescued him from Wolf, trying to recount all the times he'd seen Falco drink. He remembered being told once by Katt Monroe that when Falco was a member of the Hot-Rodders gang, he'd had a drinking problem. Even though it seemed like the avian drank more than he or Slippy, it wasn't like Falco was intoxicated on duty or anything. If he was, he did a good job of hiding it. Still, Peppy's concerns stirred apprehensions of Fox's own, and he made a mental note to observe Falco more carefully.

"Have you seen anyone else yet?" Fox inquired, not wanting to spoil the moment of being reunited with Peppy by worrying too much over Falco.

"George is somewhere back there, schmoozing with some war buddies. I think the Minister of Defense is here, too. Haven't seen Bill or Rupert Frost yet, but I'm sure they're around…" Peppy mused.

Fox nodded, his emerald eyes narrowing pensively.

"So…what's this assignment the CSB has for us?"

Peppy's contented expression faded again.

"They're going to brief you about it soon. We'll probably end up missing most of the ceremony, that's why they didn't ask you to give a speech or anything. I think _that's_ kind of tacky; the ship _is _named after your father, you should say _something_."

Fox shrugged, smiling casually. From the depths of the crowd suddenly came a fit-looking male canine in a green Army officer's uniform, who approached them both with an excited grin.

"It's been a while, Fox," Bill Grey smiled, the shining bars on his uniform now appropriate to a Lieutenant Colonel.

"Bill," Fox said warmly, "It's been _too long_."

The two grasped hands and wrapped an arm around the other's shoulder, smiling at each other fondly. Peppy and Slippy both extended affable greetings to Bill, which were returned in the same fashion.

"Still enjoying the promotion?" Fox inquired, cocking his vulpine ears with a tilt of his head to the bars on Bill's shoulder.

"Commanding the air group at Fort Eastwood starts to get boring when there aren't too many enemies to go after," Bill replied nonchalantly. The canine's face then softened up as he inquired, "How about you? I hear you've been through some rough stuff lately."

Fox sniffed, looking down for a brief moment.

"I'm through most of it. Making my way through whatever's left. The team's getting back together, that's what counts."

"You know, if you ever needed anything, you know where to find me," Bill said, "I would've had your back."

"I know you would," Fox smiled, "I had to work it out on my own. But I think I might've gotten to where I am faster if I had done the smart thing and just called you up. Or _anyone_."

"You know what you should do? After you guys get everything squared away and the team gets back on its feet, you all should come to Katina for a little R and R. We can go rock climbing on Mount Blood, rafting down the White River… I'll show you guys the works," Bill offered.

Fox bobbed his head softly, smiling deeper.

"Sounds awesome, Bill," Fox remarked.

"You're damn right it does," Peppy interjected.

"The trick now is convincing Falco to buy into it, am I right?" Bill laughed.

_If he does, it might help get him away from the bar_, Fox thought to himself, trying to give Falco the benefit of the doubt but already feeling his suspicions build.

As Peppy chuckled in agreement, a striking-looking cream-furred leporid female in a tight-fitting blue silk sheath dress came through the crowd and stood next to Bill, then suddenly noticed them both through glasses-covered green eyes. Fox recognized her as well, but was beaten to a greeting by Peppy.

"Luce?" Peppy remarked with delighted surprise, "I didn't know you were coming!"

Lucy Hare beamed at her father graciously, then came forward to hug him with a happy greeting of, "Hey, Daddy!"

She wrapped her bare, toned arms around her father and separated, then suddenly flew to Fox in a hug, crooning even before he could react, "Fox, so nice to see you."

"Hi, Lucy, how have you been?" Fox inquired, returning the hug.

"I've been great. I've been really…good," Lucy responded as she came away from Fox.

She did the same for Slippy, wrapping her arms around his huge neck and whispering a salutation before breaking off.

"Not that I'm complaining, Luce, but what are you doing here?" Peppy inquired, still smiling at his only daughter.

"Oh, I'm, er, Bill's date, I guess," Lucy explained.

They all suddenly stared at Bill, Fox with a look of amused surprise, Slippy with utter puzzlement and Peppy with a mix of confusion and almost outrage.

"I mean, we're not _dating_ or anything…" Lucy recovered, staring at her father and laughing awkwardly.

"Well, we're sort--" Bill began, only to be silenced by Lucy giving off a laughing cough and a light touch to his shoulder.

"It's just… we've been talking for a while. Teaching at the institute on Fichina isn't quite what I thought it would be, and the University of Tombstone offered me an adjunct position. So…" Lucy took over oddly, "_Bill_ and I started talking on the InterLink about what if I moved to Katina. It's kind of a drastic change, you know, from…cold and windy to…"

"Hot and dry and…earth-quakey…" Bill contributed, clearly uncomfortable.

"_Right_," Lucy said with a nervous smile, "So, Bill told me that he was coming here, so I got on a spaceflight to Grand Central Station and Bill picked me up on his way! We just thought we'd, you know, reminisce about old times and…talk about my transfer. And it gave me the chance to see you!"

There was an awkward silence, with Lucy smiling a bit too much and Bill looking uncomfortable under Peppy's accusing gaze, and it was clear to almost everyone that a lot wasn't being said. Fox and Slippy exchanged glances, silently coming to the same conclusion about their mutual childhood friends.

_Holy shit_, Fox thought to himself, _Can they make it any more obvious_ _that they're _seeing_ each other?_

The idea of Bill and Lucy (who had tormented each other viciously as they grew up with Fox and Slippy) dating held a kind of controversy that superseded the slightly-scandalous fact that they were of different species. From a certain perspective, it was almost like incest. Fox could definitely understand how Peppy could see it that way. At the same time, there was something in the way that the two of them locked eyes in that one moment that Lucy looked at Bill and cut him off. It had only been visible for an instant, but Fox had seen the look in Lucy's eyes.

It was the look of sharing something very special with someone else, something undefined, hidden and undeniable.

_God, I miss that look._

As Fox blinked, he could've sworn that there was a flash of cyan blue eyes staring deeply into him through the darkness of his closed lids.

"…Nice dress, Luce," Peppy intoned sternly, his eyes still narrowed critically at Bill. The canine lieutenant colonel suddenly felt like a child again, a troublemaker kept in check by the no-nonsense practicality and occasional fierce authority of James McCloud's Lieutenant Commander. It didn't matter that Peppy was in his early fifties, that his fur was beginning to lighten or that his ears had begun to droop. The look in his eyes, the way he carried himself, showed that he was still very much the leporid that had had escaped from a Venomian prison with little more than a shank and a kill-or-be-killed attitude.

The shrill sound of feedback from a set of amplifiers set up in the landing bay broke the awkwardness as a well-dressed female feline and an aging bloodhound in a uniform identical to Peppy's stepped onto a stage across the room. The eyes of everyone gathered turned to the stage as the feline approached a podium and spoke into a microphone.

"On behalf of the Ministry of Defense, I'd like to thank you all for coming to the christening and commencement ceremony of the Cornerian Commonwealth Ship _James McCloud_," the feline said, her voice echoing through the landing bay, "I am pleased to present General George Pepper, former General of the Armed Forces during both the Lylat War and the Aparoid Invasion, to offer this ceremony's opening remarks."

Fox smiled as the old hound dog sauntered up to the podium to raucous applause. The clapping and cheering was still in full eruption when Fox felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned around to face a badger in a conservative black suit, white shirt and black tie.

"Agent Frost," Fox yelled over the cheers, "Long time, no see."

"Good to see you back in the business, Commander McCloud," Agent Rupert Frost called in return.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fox could see Bill and Lucy quietly slinking away through the crowd, probably so that Bill could avoid a full-on interrogation from Peppy. Part of Fox's mouth curved into a crooked smirk, and he hoped he would remember to call Bill sometime for the full story on what was going on between the two of them. Then he returned his attention to the CSB agent in front of him.

"I'd like you and your teammates to come with me to the war room; we're going to brief you on the assignment the CSB has for StarFox," Frost informed.

Fox nodded and began to gather his teammates as General Pepper began his speech.

* * *

"Vicki, what the fuck?!" the teenage enhydra screamed through the holoprojector as a female amphibian of similar age grabbed her by the back of the head and shoved her into the side of a parked high school airbus. Panther Caruso's golden eyes took in the hologram as the two females clawed at each other, his mouth slightly open in what could've been awe or vacant boredom. Leon Powalski sat at the control station behind him on the bridge of the _Lone Wolf_, absentmindedly stroking his gloved wrist with a single brown avian feather. Leon hadn't said where he had gotten the feather, but judging from the sounds that had echoed mere hours ago from the cargo area Leon had long since claimed for his "projects", it was easy to infer that the owner of the feather was no longer among the living. Across the bridge from Leon, plugged into a USC socket and silently piloting the entire ship was IG-N 96, his skeletal form barely moving at all.

Panther licked his lips, continuing to watch the screeching and clawing of the two females, and suddenly his velvet ears twitched as music began to clash with the violence projected in front of him. He tried to ignore the pulsing drums, the whining violins or the powerful, angelic female voice that wailed out eerie lyrics, but it was turned up so loud that he could barely hear the females yelling and cursing at each other. After a moment, Panther turned around in his seat and looked up to the command station of the bridge with a disparaging frown.

"Wolf," Panther implored, his arms flexing through the purple and white fabric of his space suit, "Do you _mind_?"

Slouching in the captain's chair was Wolf O'Donnell, a faint smile on his face as he bit into a red chili pepper and began to chew. He closed his eye and indulged in the pleasant burning sensation that seared his tongue. Wolf salivated as he swallowed the hot pepper, leaning back in the chair and listening to the voice of Morgan DeVayne as she cried out:

"_Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins…I want to find you, tear out all your ten-der-ness…and howww-wwwl! Howww-wwwl!" _

Despite lacking a general love of music, Wolf had a soft spot for Morgan DeVayne, a rising star from his home planet of Katina. A female lupine that hadn't quite made it on the popular music charts, DeVayne's lyrics and her potent voice nevertheless struck a chord with him: she knew what it was like to be a wolf, and she somehow captured it in her songs. And of all of them, the one currently playing was Wolf's favorite.

"_Wolf!_" Panther snapped.

Wolf's eye opened and he regarded Panther with an indifferent expression. He simply raised a furry eyebrow rather than answering vocally, as if begrudging the very act of acknowledging his teammate. Through the speakers, the violins built up to a crescendo and the drums increased in foreboding intensity as Morgan's haunting voice howled out to him. Wolf smiled, not at Panther, but at the song. His favorite part was coming up. Panther's grated expression endured.

"I can't hear _Schirmer High Stories_ over that _crooning_," Panther whined in his slow, smooth voice, "Do you mind?"

Wolf stared at Panther, shot a glance towards the trash emanating from the holoprojector, then looked back at the feline like he was struggling to remember just _how _Panther had ended up on his team. After a moment, Wolf merely sneered and extended a clawed hand towards the computer console near him.

"Not at all," Wolf shrugged, manipulating the computer console with his one hand. The angry shouts of the grappling females were completely drowned out as the music suddenly grew louder in volume, with Morgan DeVayne keening, "_A male who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night can still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright! If you could only see, the beast you've made of me, I've held it in but now it seems you've set it running free!_"

Leon began to giggle softly, wagging the feather in the air as Panther's feline face contorted with outrage. Wolf chuckled to himself and crossed his arms, glaring at Panther as if daring him to do something about it.

"Stupid lobo-music," Panther muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he turned back around in his chair.

"**On the contrary, Comrade Caruso**," IG-N 96 interjected, the violins and drums dying down as the song ended, "**I'd say that Lord O'Donnell is the one with better taste in this situation. Not to imply that it is difficult to trump **_**Schirmer High Stories**_** in terms of taste. Still, with regards to taste, I **_**never**_** expected to remark upon Lord O'Donnell's. With all due respect, my Lord, I was not aware that you had any.**"

Wolf opened his mouth, a scathing retort armed and ready, then paused when he couldn't decide whether IG's remark had been a veiled insult or a veiled _compliment_.

"There's a lot ya' don't know about me," Wolf growled softly, reaching down to the ceramic bowl in his lap and plucking out another crimson chili pepper, separating the red-skinned fruit from the stem with a nibble of his jaws.

"Alright, now that the song's over, can you turn it off? I _was _watching my show," Panther griped, his arms still crossed and his back still turned to Wolf.

"I dunno, are ya' gonna keep poutin' like a little slit-eyed _bitch_?" Wolf jeered as he chewed, then swallowed.

"_Fine_," Panther scoffed, uncrossing his arms and facing Wolf, flashing a shit-eating grin, "Can I watch _Schirmer High Stories_, PLEASE?"

"**Incoming transmission. It's from Sargasso, my Lord**," IG informed them, shifting whilst still connected to the USC socket.

"That's Connolly. Put him up on the projector, IG," Wolf instructed. Panther growled with disgust, rolling his eyes once more as the hologram footage of _Schirmer High Stories_ vanished and the sound system went silent for a moment. Then the holoprojector glowed to life once more, and the enlarged head and upper torso of an elderly wolf with ragged, matted grey fur appeared in front of them. The lupine wore a heavy jacket of brown leather over a black turtleneck. The wolf's most striking feature was the harsh disfigurement of the left side of his face, where the fur had long been scorched away and the skin left red, leathery and stretched across his skull like skin over a drum. The scar touched the left sides of his muzzle and extended from just below his eye to the middle of his neck. In his clawed right hand, he massaged and gripped a gold Liat coin, a rare trinket that had been replaced long ago by either paper bills or electronic currency. These days, only the smallest values were represented by coins.

Magnus Connolly was a guatrau, or lieutenant, in the Samedi Cartel of Macbeth. Among the cartels on Zoness, Aquas, Macbeth and Corneria, the Samedi Cartel had a reputation for its wealth and its ability to infiltrate and corrupt government organizations. Out of all of StarWolf's clients in the criminal underworld, the Samedi Cartel paid the best.

StarWolf's ties to the Samedi Cartel had only been formed recently, when Magnus Connolly took over the Sargasso space station after StarWolf abandoned it following the Aparoid Invasion. StarWolf had gained control over the station three years before the Aparoids came, and used it as a hub for black market smuggling, drug trafficking, and as a general hideout for criminals on the run. Sargasso had functioned as an excellent home base and a lucrative form of income in between contracts, however Wolf generally found it more trouble than it was worth. He was a mercenary, not king of some private castle. Connolly taking control of the station proved to be a win-win situation, providing StarWolf with connections to one of the larger crime cartels in Lylat and saving them the trouble of constantly asserting dominance and maintaining order over a space station full of interstellar criminals and space pirates.

Wolf found no complaints with Connolly himself, except for the fact that he could be more than a bit shrewd.

He also claimed that the scar on his face was a blaster burn inflicted by none other than James McCloud himself, during a prison riot in Anaxes that the original StarFox had been hired to suppress. It sounded to Wolf like bullshit, though he'd never say so out loud. From Wolf's experience, James McCloud hadn't been in the habit of leaving his enemies alive.

"Evening, my boy," Connolly greeted in a raspy voice, fiddling compulsively with the golden coin in his paw.

"Connolly," Wolf nodded.

"My people in San Saldemere tell me the Tenozu Tower's penthouse was nearly destroyed. You definitely sent a message to anyone who was thinking about becoming a snitch," Connolly smiled.

"I'm uploadin' your images now," Wolf muttered, loading the still image of Bruce Rhinebeck's corpse that his optical implant had captured moments after killing the leporid. He made a motion towards IG, who then transmitted the image to their client.

"Brucie, Brucie," Connolly clicked, "You always were a loser."

"There's somethin' ya' might wanna know about this job," Wolf growled, swallowing with a measure of disgust. Both Leon and Panther looked at him tentatively as Wolf's expression remained stoic.

Once again, that odd feeling that he got yesterday in the tower returned, and Wolf remembered the boy's big blue eyes. He ignored it and continued.

"There was a kid in tha' penthouse, Connolly. Rhinebeck's kid," Wolf growled out slowly, meeting the elder wolf's pale green eyes.

"What's your point, Wolf?" Connolly probed.

"Ya' said no witnesses."

"So you killed the kid?"

"Nah," Wolf shrugged, "That was tha' thing ya' might wanna know."

Connolly narrowed his eyes at Wolf.

"You didn't have much of a problem killing his wife," Connolly remarked icily.

"I _didn't_ kill tha' wife. My pal over here did," Wolf returned, gesturing towards Leon.

"Well if you didn't have the balls for it why didn't you ask your pal to take ca--" "Cause StarWolf doesn't kill kids," Wolf interrupted, "I just don't do that shit and even though Leon might do it, he's not gonna do it on my watch. You'd 'a learned that beforehand if ya' told me there was a kid up there I was supposed ta' kill. Now ya' know."

Connolly glared his eyes at Wolf, squeezing his coin. Wolf leered in return with his hard lavender eye and his glowing blue implant. During the silence, Leon, Panther and IG-N 96 all stared back and forth between the two wolves as they stared each other down. The scarred lupine in the hologram seemed to be thinking something over, then suddenly the stern look disappeared and the grip on his coin loosened.

"He's a kid. He didn't really know anything anyway. Would've been more of a bonus if you'd gotten him, though. But I get it," Connolly sighed. Wolf smirked and tried to ignore that odd feeling that still weighed down in his chest.

"I'm forwarding your fee of two million Liat," Connolly muttered, typing into a datapad on his lap with one hand, "Oh, and Wolf?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't disrespect me like that again. You've made your point, I get it and I admit it was kind of a cheap shot not to tell you about the kid," Connolly said, "But if you do that again I'll have your ship blown up and your other eye put in a jar on my mantle. Is that clear?"

"As fuckin' crystal," Wolf said monotonously.

"Good," Connolly nodded, "Now, if you want to stop being such a prick, I've got a job for you. It's a big fucking job. You interested?"

"Always."

* * *

From the slab-like holoprojector in the _James McCloud_'s war room floated the holoprojected image of a large, long capital ship. The vessel had an almost ant-like appearance, with an abdomen-like section dominated by two sets of engines, one pair taking up the stern and two other, slightly smaller ones mounted at the sides of the aft section. Atop the abdomen was a distinctive control tower where the bridge would be, surrounded by four large twin pulse laser turret emplacements and several more turbolaser batteries. The thorax of the ship was an octagonal prism, dominated on the dorsal side by several missile turrets and on the ventral side by a complicated-looking deflector shield array, with a large opening to the ship's main hangar bay. The stern section was longer than the other two sections of the ship put together, sloping to a point almost like the head of a crocodilian or a pair of needle-nose pliers. This section was dominated by ten twin pulse laser turrets in a v-formation on both the dorsal and ventral sides, with a pair of small fins taking up the pointed front of the ship. The entire ship was painted a distinctive rust red and bore the upside down A insignia of the Venomian Empire of Andross.

"The VNS _Xerxes_," Agent Rupert Frost instructed, glancing at the hologram and then back to the assembled party seated before him, "Last confirmed sighting at the Battle of Venom, ten years ago."

"I remember this ship," Fox mentioned from his seat, scrutinizing the hologram, "It was one of the x-factors for the planning of the battle. We didn't know what it was capable of since it was developed so late in the war."

"That's right," Frost nodded, "As the Lylat War was coming to a close, Andross and the Venomian High Command got desperate. They knew we were coming with the _Ajax_ and a fleet that could challenge whatever they had left. So they built the _Xerxes _as one of their last-ditch efforts to ensure that at least some part of the Venomian Empire would survive. The project was more expensive than the _Ajax_, about twenty billion Liat all together. It was built to both stand up to and give out heavy damage and act as a mobile base of operations for the Venomian Empire, in the event that we captured Venom. The ship boasts twenty eight twin pulse laser turrets, twenty turbolaser batteries to defend against fighters, and thirty six diamond boron missile tubes. The deflector shield array was extremely advanced for its time; even by today's standards it would be pretty good. Overall, the ship was able to handle concentrated fire from the _Ajax_, several _Trafalguis_-class ships and bombers before it warped away from the battle. The warp engines are the true wildcard for the ship: they could be the fastest design ever built. Even today, our most advanced warp drives can only approach half the speeds that the _Xerxes_ was able to reach. It's not faster than traveling by orbital gate, but that's not the problem."

"Why isn't that tha' problem?" Falco inquired with a raised hand, dressed in a black suit with a blue collared shirt and a gold tie. In his feathered hand was an almost-empty plastic cocktail glass from the party, a straw poking out from over the rim.

"You can't chase a ship in warp using an orbital gate. Its different mechanics, I think," Fox answered.

"_Why_?" Falco prodded.

"Because orbital gates work almost like wormholes, Falco," Slippy explained, "A ship going through an orbital gate travels from point A to point B more like a stream of tachyonic energy than a physical object. It doesn't exist in the same sense that a ship using regular warp travel does. You can go faster than normal warp travel, but you can't chase something because you can't change your route or stop in mid-jump when you go through an orbital gate. It's just not possible because of the mechanics of the bridge through space-time."

"…_What?_," Falco demanded with confusion.

"Speak Basic, Slippy, you're confusing _me_," Fox smirked.

Slippy looked down for a moment, then smiled and began, "Okay, think of a starship as a bar of soap and space as the floor of a refresher. Normal warp drive essentially works like getting the soap all wet so that when you slide it across the floor, it takes less energy for it to go fast. That's how you can reach speeds many times the speed of light in warp travel, without it you would need an infinite amount of energy because your mass becomes infinite as you approach the speed of light--"

"You're losing us again, Slip," Fox sighed. Rupert Frost began to clear his throat, expressing his desire to move on, and Slippy quickly began again in earnest, eager for a chance to show off for once.

"Okay, so you've got regular warp travel. Think of an orbital gate as a hole in the floor or a tunnel that just acts as a sort of shortcut that lets you get across the room faster than you would by just sliding the wet bar of soap across the floor. But the thing is, you can't chase a bar of soap using regular warp travel by using an orbital gate, because you're not working under the same principles or even traveling through physical space in the same sense as the bar of soap you're chasing… you get it?" Slippy explained.

"Sort of. Kinda just makes me wanna play with a bar a' soap in tha' shower, though," Falco smirked, sipping his drink.

Slippy rolled his bulbous eyes and Fox just smiled as Rupert Frost looked at them dryly.

"Right. That's the problem," Frost explained, "The ship can warp in, attack with all of its weapons, and warp out, and we'd never be able to catch it. It was designed for guerilla warfare. It doesn't have a large hangar for a fighter escort, but even without it, the ship's a very credible threat. According to our intelligence, the ship has two more things to deal with: First, a working prototype of an advanced weapon that Andross was working on. Apparently it's a type of bomb capable of creating a miniature black hole, large enough to swallow up a small fleet of ships. It was never tested or used, so we have all reason to believe that the weapon remains on the ship. Second, as the Battle of Venom approached, the Venomian High Command prepared to use the _Xerxes_ as a mobile base of operations for the Venomian Empire. To facilitate this, they transferred a large amount of the Venomian treasury into the ship's electronic vaults. All in all, the _Xerxes_ has an estimated 435 billion Liat still valid."

"Holy _shit_," Fox exclaimed, more taken by the idea of the money than by the possibility of some black-hole super weapon of Andross', "So what happened to the ship?"

"It warped away from the Battle of Venom just as we got the upper hand. The one thing they didn't count on was you, Commander McCloud. They didn't expect you to kill Andross. Because of that, the Venomian Remnant was thrown into disarray, and eventually split into two factions: on one side was the faction headed by former General of the Venomian Army Maximilian Zaius, who controlled most of the larger ships, including the _Xerxes_. On the other side was Andrew Oikonny, who claimed to be Andross' heir and was able to gather a sizable following within the Remnant. In order to prevent Oikonny from getting his hands on the _Xerxes_, Zaius apparently abandoned it and programmed it to jump randomly all over the warp corridor between Sectors X and Z. If any ship is lucky enough to run across the _Xerxes _when it stops, the ship automatically warps away, so it's currently impossible to catch. However, things have changed since Zaius first hid the ship. The Oikonny faction of the Venomian Remnant was destroyed by a combination of the arrival of the Aparoids and _your _actions a year ago. Which means that the ship has become something of a legend, with no one really able to get it," Frost informed them, "The _Xerxes_ will only stand down and allow ships to approach if given the proper signal exchange. The encryption codes for this signal, as well as the frequency required in order to track down the ship is stored on two copy-proof discs. The first disc, which is needed to find the _Xerxes_, is still in possession of Zaius himself. Zaius gave the second disc, which disarms the ship and allows other vessels to approach, to Andross' grandson, Dash Bowman."

"So the only people that can get a hold of the ship are what's left of the Venomians and the head of the Ape Liberation Front? How are we supposed to convince _them_ to hand the discs over?" Fox interrogated.

Frost nodded, then looked over to Peppy, sitting next to Fox. Peppy stayed silent, staring straight forward, his lips pursed sternly and his arms crossed over his chest. Fox's brow furrowed, wondering why Peppy seemed so bitter.

"You don't have to. It's been negotiated that the ALF and the Venomian Remnant will turn the discs over. The CSB has agreed to remove the ALF from our terrorism watch list and issue a full pardon to Zaius and the Venomian Remnant in exchange for the discs," Frost informed them.

"How'd you get them to do _that_?" Fox inquired, looking at Frost, then at Peppy, who grunted softly.

"We didn't," Frost conceded, "We owe the work to an independent operative. A vigilante bounty hunter of sorts that's been terrorizing the cartels for the past few months. Most of this whole operation is her brainchild. Calls herself Kursed."

"Kursed?" Fox inquired, "And it's a _she_?"

Frost nodded, adjusting his tie.

"Mm-hm," Frost answered, "From what we understand, Kursed has been responsible for several incidents that we assumed to be inter-gang violence, including the deaths of several guatraus from multiple cartels. In the process, she's put herself at the top of almost every cartel's hit list. Now Kursed has upped the ante from just killing gangsters, apparently, and wants to take something big down, mainly the _Xerxes_. But she couldn't do it without the deals that the Cornerian government is able to provide. StarFox will be acting on behalf of the CSB, protecting and escorting Kursed as well as retrieving the discs and finally, securing the _Xerxes_ itself."

Fox leaned back in his seat, nodding slowly as he considered the idea. The job sounded good, and the payoff sounded like it would be _huge_.

"Specifically, what would the assignment involve?" Fox probed.

"First, you would retrieve the disc from the ALF, headquartered in Apollo on Corneria. You'd meet up with them tomorrow afternoon. Then, you'd rendezvous with Kursed later that night. The rendezvous point is a splicer's club in Apollo called Glamorama," Frost explained, "After extracting Kursed; StarFox would proceed to the established meeting point on Fortuna with the command of the Venomian Remnant, to retrieve the second disc. After all of that, StarFox will trace the _Xerxes_' location, secure the ship, and wait for the CSB to arrive to analyze the black-hole weapon, the warp engines, and whatever other technology remains on the ship. Simple enough, isn't it?"

"So it seems," Peppy muttered. Frost gave Peppy an awkward look, while Fox continued to stare critically at the badger.

"I'm with Peppy on this one," Fox said, "What's the catch? Why doesn't the CSB just do this whole thing themselves?"

"It's a matter of reputation," a husky, feminine voice explained from behind them all.

Everyone turned their heads to the door of the war room, where a female arctic wolf with piercing golden eyes strode through the doorway. She wore black high heels and an olive-colored pantsuit with a blue blouse and a golden necklace, all of which complimented her brilliantly white fur and confident, measured gait. The she-wolf proceeded to the front of the war room, taking up the space next to Agent Frost. There was something in the way that her yellow eyes met Fox's emerald green ones, an almost adversarial supremacy that made Fox feel more like an object than a person. He cleared his throat and tightened his jaw, meeting the white wolf's gaze.

"The CSB cannot officially deal with the Venomian Remnant or the ALF. Both of them are considered subversives and enemies of the state. In order to avoid public criticism, we need to take every measure to ensure that the Bureau is not connected to this issue until it's finished. Using StarFox instead of our own operatives is one of those measures," the she-wolf explained, "Thus, if you were to fail, the CSB would deny any ties to StarFox with regards to this assignment."

Peppy tightened his jaw, his brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. Fox's face became much more serious, and he looked closely at the she-wolf's face.

"I know who you are," Fox muttered, "You're the Director of the CSB, aren't you?"

"Director Gillian Morrow," the she-wolf introduced herself, the title emerging from her jaws as a hoarse whisper.  
"This _must _be important, if you're taking an interest in it," Fox mused, brushing a red strand of fur off of the black lapel of his suit.

"The _Xerxes _presents a substantial threat to the safety of the Commonwealth, and the nature of the assignment involves subversive groups within our borders, interplanetary relations with Fortuna and the possibility that the CSB starfleet may need to be involved. This requires a special attention. It's why StarFox was selected to act on our behalf. You've served the Commonwealth well in the past," Morrow reasoned.

"Another reason is the risk to personnel," Frost added, tentatively re-directing the course of the conversation, "Kursed has made a lot of enemies. There's bound to be assassins that the cartels have hired to eliminate her. We have reason to believe that the rendezvous point at Glamorama has been compromised, which means there may be people looking for Kursed at the club that night. On top of this, the _Xerxes_ has a somewhat mythical reputation around the underworld. It's a powerful ship, faster than anything else in the Lylat System, and it's carrying billions of Liat for the taking. So you probably will have competition that will be after the ship itself."

* * *

"What kinda' competition are we talkin' about?" Wolf inquired, inspecting the projected hologram of the VNS _Xerxes_ next to the image of Connolly, his bushy grey tail squirming in interest. He gently pulled his tail out from under his buttocks and allowed it to wag slowly off the end of his seat. He remembered mention of the _Xerxes_ years ago when StarWolf had prepared to defend Andross' palace on the eve of the Battle of Venom. The ship had been expected to hold off the Cornerian fleet long enough for StarWolf to eliminate StarFox and for Andross to evacuate afterwards (how Andross was supposed to evacuate, given the bizarre transformation he'd gone through by the end of the Lylat War, had never been explained to Wolf), however things hadn't exactly gone to plan. Wolf supposed that was partially his fault for not being able to defeat StarFox that day, but it wasn't something that he was prone to dwell on, let alone feel particularly guilty for. He had come a long way since that point, and given how things had turned out when he faced Fox McCloud on Temple, he didn't see any reason for complaint or regret. After all, it wasn't like _StarWolf _was the team in need of rebuilding.

"I don't know all of 'em. There's too many people that want in on this, boyo, not just for a shot at Kursed but for the ship itself, of course," Connolly shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his coin, "I hear that the Kerouac Cartel hired Julius Priest."

Under the hologram of the _Xerxes _appeared the image of a fit-looking primate with jet-black hair and several scars around his muzzle. The image was watermarked in the lower right corner with the glaring face of Andross, indicating that it was from a Venomian Army dossier.

"Julius Priest was in the 401st Legion, if I'm correct," Leon mused, stroking the brown feather over his knuckles, "He must be one of the only ones still alive."

The 401st Legion of the Venomian Army, nicknamed the RedEyes in reference to the fearsome carnivorous dinosaur tribe of Sauria, was an elite unit of the Venomian Army that was well known for its loyalty to Andross and several atrocities against the civilian population of Macbeth during the Venomian occupation of the planet. Many in the Venomian Army often likened the 401st to the ground counterpart of StarWolf, which more often than not fought in their Wolfens than on the ground during the Lylat War. Near the end of the war, forty seven remaining members of the 401st committed suicide rather than be captured. All members of the 401st that were captured by the Cornerian Army were tried and executed for war crimes. Julius Priest had apparently somehow escaped and become a mercenary for-hire in the years following the war.

"Am I gonna hafta' worry about him?" Wolf growled.

"Probably not," Connolly informed, "The Kerouacs told me that they hired Priest just to take out Kursed. The bitch murdered their second in command, so they want her _bad_. You don't have to worry about competition because I don't give a _shit_ about Kursed. She hasn't done much to us. I just want the _ship_. The difficulty is, from the way I understand it, the ALF and the Venomians are only going to give the discs to her or whoever's protecting her, and you need them to get to the ship. You might run into trouble if Priest tries to kill her before she gets the discs, though. But generally, if you don't get in his way, he won't get in yours. I've talked to a few others, but a lot of people want this ship, so you'll probably be dealing with people less willing to cooperate."

"Like who?" Wolf inquired.

* * *

"Like the Suchos brothers," Frost explained as the holoprojector displayed the mug shots of three large muscular crocodilians, each one bigger than the one before.

"They look friendly," Fox remarked dryly.

"They're half-brothers: Waylon, Joseph and Edgar," Frost began, "They share the same father."

"Do they share one brain cell between tha' three of 'em too?" Falco remarked, "They've all just got a 'short-bus' vibe to 'em."

Everyone ignored Falco, and after a moment of silence he shrugged and tossed his empty cocktail glass into the waste disintegrator.

"They've been in and out of prison, serving as hired muscle for cartels, pirates, gangs, etcetera for years," Frost continued, "They're all slapheads, especially the youngest one, Edgar. He's the big one on the end."

"_He's _the youngest?" Peppy exclaimed in surprise, "Sweet Lyla, how tall is he? Two and a half meters?"

"Three meters. He's been using slappers since puberty," Frost answered. Fox whistled in bewildered amazement.

Synthetic hypersteroid patches, also known as slappers, were among the most extreme and illegal of performance-enhancing drugs. Highly addictive and dangerous, the drug was known to increase muscle mass and skeletal growth to an unnatural degree, but also caused liver, heart and nerve damage and made users prone to compulsive, highly violent outbursts. And all of the Suchos brothers, especially Edgar, looked like poster child slapheads.

"Edgar's also had some genetic therapy done," Frost explained, "It increased the protein and iron content in the keratin in his scales, as well as the general thickness of his hide. This makes his skin very tough, especially with regards to heat. This, combined with the decreased sensitivity of the nerves in his skin from chronic steroid abuse, makes him surprisingly resistant to standard blaster fire. The last time Edgar was captured; he charged a tactical squad head-on and withstood three shots right to his chest before they took him down."

"He's a fuckin' _tank_," Falco mumbled with surprise.

"What about the other two?" Fox inquired, briefly looking from Frost to Gillian Morrow, who was standing silently to the side, her arms crossed over her breasts.

"The middle child, Joseph, is the runt of the three. He either takes orders from Waylon or gets bullied by Edgar. Waylon, the oldest, is the leader. Out of all of them, he's abused the least steroids and he got his Secondary Education Equivalency Degree during his last stay in prison."

"So _he's_ tha' _brains_ of the operation," Falco interjected, obviously bored. By this time, no one was paying any attention to the slightly-tipsy avian.

"Their M.O. is anything but subtle," Frost continued, "They're basically berserkers. Guns blazing, heavy casualties. Sometimes they work for hire, sometimes for themselves. Either way, if enough word has gotten out about the rendezvous point, it's a good chance they'll be there, to collect the hit on Kursed, chase after the _Xerxes_ or both."

"So, in other words, they're meaner than shit, they're dumber than hell, and they go ripshit riot at the drop of a hat," Fox remarked dryly, "No wonder you want us to do this in your place; you want us to walk into what's probably a death trap. Why can't we just arrange another meet-up with Kursed? One that _isn't_ crawling with guys that want to kill us?"

"That's problematic," Frost replied, "We don't have an established line of communication with Kursed. Our information is extremely limited regarding Kursed; we don't even know what she _looks _like. She set up the meeting at the club. And there's no real way for us to change it, since we can't get in contact with her."

"Then how is she going to know to meet _us_ over the hundreds of people that are going to be in that club?" Fox demanded with some incredulity.

"Her instructions were just to be at Glamorama half an hour after midnight. She said she would know," Frost returned, glancing over at Gillian Morrow.

Fox exhaled with skepticism, his muzzle shriveling in anxiety as he sat back in his chair.

"I'm not so sure about this anymore," Fox stated, "What's the payoff?"

"Your standard contract applies with regards to expenses and damages incurred. However, if you fail, the contract is null and void. You get nothing and the CSB denies ever hiring you," Frost answered.

"You're not selling this very well," Fox critiqued, "What if we do succeed?"

"We pay expenses and damages incurred, and you receive half of whatever funds can be recovered from the _Xerxes_ electronic vaults."

Fox's jaw dropped, along with Slippy and Falco's.

"That's...217 _billion_ Liat," Fox breathed, "You're going to let us have…217 _billion_ Liat?"

"Does it look like we need the money?" Gillian Morrow queried.

Fox could barely breathe. All of the thoughts in his head had locked on to that number: Ł217, 000,000,000.

Almost fifty times the size of the trust fund that James McCloud originally started the original Team StarFox with, which had bought the first _Great Fox _and all of the team's equipment. StarFox would never have to worry about money again in his lifetime. They would be set. This wasn't anything nearly as dangerous as fighting the Venomian Fleet or the Aparoid horde. And the reward was far greater than what StarFox had been paid for both quests combined. It sounded like cake.

"We're in," Fox said, "Put all of the information and prep work that you have for us on a disc, and tell us whatever else we need to know, but we're in."

"You're doing your Commonwealth a great service, Commander McCloud," Morrow smiled.

* * *

"You expect me ta' just hand over tha' ship an' all that money, an' just _trust _that you're gonna give me twenty billion? Fuck that, I want _half_. And I'll transfer it inta' my account when I'm on the ship," Wolf demanded flatly. Connolly pinched his coin, the right side of his muzzle curling up with scorn.

"What are _you _going to do with all of that money, Wolf?"

"What're _you _gonna do with all that money, plus a warship no one can catch with weapons no one can stop?"

"Whatever I damn well please."

"Well ain't that a coincidence. That's just what I plan ta' do with 217 billion Liat. _If_ it's still there. Ya' know there's no one else you can ask that's gonna do what he says an' deliver ten times outta ten. Ya' want tha' ship? You can have tha' ship; it's too big for me ta' use, anyway. Ya' want the money? Sure, as long as I get the cut I deserve."

"You really are a piece of work, you know that, O'Donnell?" Connolly scoffed with a shake of his head, "If you weren't so good at what you do, I'd have to kill you."

"If I wasn't so good at what I do, ya' might be _able _to," Wolf muttered under his breath.

"Fine. Half. Not a fucking bit more. And if that ship isn't in one piece, it's your ass, O'Donnell," Connolly snarled, "Kursed's going to be at Glamorama in Apollo at thirty minutes after midnight, tomorrow night. That's your best lead. Go get my ship, Wolf."

The lupine crime boss disappeared as the transmission cut off.

Wolf smirked, looking out at the vast field of stars visible through the viewport of the _Lone Wolf_'s bridge.

"**Your orders, my Lord?**" IG-N 96 inquired.

"Set a course for Corneria. Maximum warp," Wolf growled, digging his clawed fingers into the armrest of his captain's chair, "We're gonna go see some nightlife."

* * *

Team StarFox had barely left the war room to return to their ship when Agent Rupert Frost turned to Gillian Morrow. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Morrow said, "You did well. I still had to come in, though. They're cautious. They might've asked too many questions if we hadn't dangled the prospect of the money in front of them. I think Peppy Hare suspects that we're not telling him everything. Let's hope for his sake he doesn't interfere too much."

The badger nodded, looking off to the side in unease.

"You were going to say something?" Morrow investigated.

"Yes," Frost nodded, "I just wanted to know _why _we couldn't tell them that Kursed _requested_ StarFox to extract her. That _that's _how she would know who she was supposed to meet at Glamorama. Why couldn't we tell them that?"

"Because I don't know _why_ Kursed requested StarFox. And since it's in our best interests to have the upper hand on StarFox, we're not going to tell them something unless we know _why _they need to know. Controlling what they know allows us to better control _them_. That's how knowledge is _power_, Agent Frost."

Her voice was so deep and sensual, but tinged with a calculated, ruthless flavor, like singing someone to sleep in order to smother them to death. Frost swallowed and nodded, unable to meet Morrow's penetrating gaze. The she-wolf began to exit, her white tail drifting gracefully from side to side.

"Keep doing your job, Agent Frost," Morrow remarked, "Keep track of them and send me updates on their progress. I'm going to ready my starfleet."

With that, she evanesced from the room. The fur on the back of Frost's neck relaxed, and he suddenly felt the need to loosen his tie.

* * *

Again, I'm going to try to make updates come more frequently as my semester starts winding down. Also, in this chapter you're introduced to music in the Lylat System, which is strangely similar to music on Earth. this is because I have no talent for writing my own music, so songs by real-life artists will stand in for the songs of Lylat artists (so you might hear familiar lyrics but you'll have to figure out who the song really belongs to). I promise there won't be any lame music on here. The first was, as I said before, Florence + the Machine's "Howl" standing in for a song by Morgan DeVayne. If you didn't YouTube the song before, do it now. It's FUCKING AWESOME. See you soon, guys.


	5. Waiting For the Night

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ugh, I'm not going to bother apologizing. Just know that the next few updates should come a lot faster now that it's summer. Of course, they'll come even FASTER if you review. Always helps to know people are reading and what they think. Your song selections are:

Across the Universe by Jim Sturgess (originally by John Lennon, represented in the story as a song by John Stephens) and

Every Planet We Reach is Dead by The Gorillaz (represented in the story as a song by The Primes)

Read, review and enjoy.

* * *

**-Waiting For The Night -**

"Hey, ya wanna watch tha' sky, Fox?" Falco griped from the passenger seat as Fox piloted the skycar around a belligerent hovercraft in front of them.

"Shut up and stop side-seat driving; I'm ten seconds from kicking you out the door to see if you can fly," Fox shot back, weaving in between two other skycars as the engine whirred louder in tempo. The bright red Kaier MS 300 skycar that the StarFox Team had rented was but a single drop within the rivers of ebbing flight traffic clogging the congested airlanes of Apollo, which flowed between the buildings of grey ferroconcrete and shiny transparisteel, saturated with bright neon holographic advertisements, in an endless stream of gridlock.

The megacity of Apollo, on Corneria's southwestern hemisphere, had been the black sheep of the planet's five metropolises for centuries. Unlike bright and polished Corneria City, the rough town of Apollo held the largest concentration of immigrants, funneled into the city by the former Cornerian Empire's subtly speciesist policies regarding extraterrestrials to its home planet. In some regards, Apollo was far more culturally diverse than even the capitol, a true melting pot of lifestyles and life forms from all around the Lylat System. In other regards, Apollo was an overbuilt, overcrowded cesspool in the beginnings of urban decay and social tension, defined by the highest crime rate on the planet.

The MS 300 swerved through the air and cut into the route for the express airlane for the northern districts of Apollo, passing by an orange holographic advertisement offering **ADULT LEISURE: Sex dolls, pleasure droids and VR role-playing at Lichtenstein's Boutique, 2114 Brasilla St, Suite 4012**.

"This lunchtime traffic's gonna take forever," Falco grumbled, "And I'm hungry."

"Falco, please don't whine. I hate it when you whine," Fox replied in a bored tone, his eyes on the thick traffic ahead.

"That makes two of us," Slippy remarked from the backseat, shoving a pair of plastic shopping bags into the rear passenger door in an attempt to make more room.

"Fox, don't ya' have a free flight permit? Can't we just get outta this traffic?" Falco demanded as the skycar slowed in response to the clogged air traffic all around them.

"That's only for my dad's old car at the house in Corneria City. This rental still has a restraining module," Fox explained.

"Then can ya' at least drive faster?" Falco implored, "Ya' know how many people have passed us? I'm gonna count 'em out for ya, out loud so you'll know."

"And I'm sure I'd appreciate that if I actually gave a damn," Fox sighed, changing lanes and avoiding a limousine that had been tailgating them for the past few moments.

"I grew up street racing shit like this; it's how I learned ta fly," Falco argued after a moment, "I could blow tha' doors off this thing if ya let me."

"I don't care what you did in the Hot Rodders. I'm driving, now stop being a little girl about it," Fox grumbled.

Falco narrowed his blue avian eyes, the fleshy corners of his beak turning downwards. He crossed his arms and looked straight out the windshield. One of the only ways to stop Falco in the middle of a rant was to refer to him as a little girl. Fox saved it only for when nothing else seemed to work.

"Fine," Falco muttered, "But I'm still hungry. Slippy, you hungry?"

"Eh, I could go for something."

"Fox, we're hungry."

"I thought you ate this morning," Fox remarked indifferently, glancing at an impressive-looking black Harrison Blade Runner as it zoomed past in the adjoining lane.

"I did," Falco shrugged, "Waffles. Orange juice. Some a' those overcooked noodles Peppy made last night. It was a balanced breakfast. But there's this thing called a digestive system, and what it does is break down food that ya' eat in the mornin' so that by the time it's the afternoon, you're hungry again. I know it's a bitch, an' it don't make sense, but who am _I_ ta' argue with biology?"

Fox was shaking his head before Falco had even finished speaking, and didn't bother replying.

"I've got to take Falco's side on this one. I'm actually starting to get hungry," Slippy added from the backseat.

"Okay, fine, where are we eating?" Fox replied in a monotone as the MS 300's comlink began to chime. Fox's green eyes darted to the small holoscreen on the central console on the dashboard, which showed an incoming call from a paramilitary starship's orbiting frequency. Fox recognized it and touched the screen to accept the transmission, immediately after saying "Hey, Peppy."

"Hey guys," Peppy Hare's voice issued from the comlink, "Just decided to check on how things are going down there."

"Everything's smooth," Fox reported, pressing down on the accelerator with his booted foot to speed the skycar between two midsize hovercrafts, "Slippy picked up the rental from CorneraCar right after the _Pleiades _dropped us off. "

"Nice, what did you get?" Peppy inquired.

"A Kaier. One of the 300 models."

"Hmh. Sporty."

"Yeah, well when you grow up surrounded by star fighters and sports cars, you just don't feel right in the average skimmer."

"Your father did love his cars. He said he'd sell his house before he sold his XJ-2. I hope you guys got the insurance on that rental."

"I had Slippy get everything," Fox replied, "Just in case. I doubt we'll need it though."

"So what were you two doing while Slippy was getting the car?"

"Falco and I were… at Space Cowboy," Fox explained, smiling with amusement.

"What were you doing at Space Cowboy?" Peppy requested in a puzzled tone.

"It was Falco's idea," Fox shrugged.

"Yeah," Falco cut in, "Tha way I see it, if we're tryin' ta' get inta this splicer's club tonight, we gotta look tha' part. We can't just march in there dressed in our StarFox gear; it's a splicer's club. If tha' gangstas in there didn't shoot us first, any of tha guys lookin' for Kursed would. Plus we'd look old."

There was a pause, and after a moment Peppy replied gruffly, "So what's wrong with being _old_?"

Fox grinned, sparing a glance out of the windshield to the sun-bleached Apollo skyline. With everyone talking and discussing even these minor details, it was just like old times. It hit him that the team was actually back together again and working as if the past two years hadn't even happened. They were no longer just Fox, Falco, Slippy and Peppy anymore. They were the StarFox Team once again. And though Krystal's absence still prodded at him, it was hard to complain now. He was so close to regaining what he'd lost. The mission also implored him to focus his thoughts on the task at hand. If StarFox succeeded on the assignment, they would have more than they needed to track down Krystal, wherever she might be.

Hell, with Ł217,000,000,000,000, the StarFox Team would have everything they would ever need, period. They could even start doing pro bono assignments for those who couldn't afford to pay StarFox, something that even James McCloud had struggled with. It behooved him to stay on task, and keep the painful thoughts of Krystal out of his mind.

"Peppy, listen ta' me," Falco explained, "When I was out on my own, I did some clubbing, and there's one rule: Old people suck. If it looks like you're over thirty, no one's gonna talk to ya' and everyone's gonna know ya' don't belong, 'cause nobody in a club trusts anyone over thirty."

"You're not there to pick up dates, Falco," Peppy scolded haughtily.

"That's what I said," Fox added, "I also told him that, out of the three of us, _he's_ the only one that has to worry about the whole 'thirty' thing."

"Yeah, and then I explained that, first off, it don't matta' if you're over thirty, it matters if ya' _look_ over thirty. Foxie an' I can look like cool twenty-somethings if we got tha' right clothes, that's why we went ta' Space Cowboy. Slippy's always gonna have tha' sex appeal of an old geezer an' tha' charisma of a preschooler, so that's why he's gonna be in the car for backup when we're in the club tonight."

"Falco, I didn't think you knew what the word charisma meant," Slippy muttered.

"Yeah, it means you're a twenty-nine year old frog that sometimes talks like he's five; it also means shut your pie-hole, the grown-ups are talkin'," the avian fired back.

"Sometimes, I _really_ want to slap you."

"Bring it on, Slip, see what happens. Go on, do it; you won't," Falco sneered into the rearview mirror at Slippy.

"Falco," Fox moaned, "Why do you always-"

"_Anyway_, Peppy," Falco interjected, continuing where he had left off, "Tha second reason, tha' one you and Fox care about, is tha fact that even though we're not there ta' pick up dates, we _are _there ta' blend in. Like Fox said at tha' briefing, tha' club is gonna be a death trap, so its better if we just look like regular people out clubbing. An' that's why we went ta' Space Cowboy."

"How much did you guys get?"

"About 400 Liat worth," Fox glowered flatly.

"Well you guys definitely aren't skimping," Peppy critiqued.

"Whaddaya expect? It's Space Cowboy," Falco shrugged.

"So, are you on your way to the meeting with Bowman?" Peppy inquired.

"Not yet, it's in about two hours," Fox informed, "We brought our blasters and Slippy's got a shock stick, but we're not expecting any trouble."

"It's probably a good idea anyway. The ALF has a reputation for being a little antsy around the authorities. Tell me how it goes, guys. I'll be up here, planning our next moves on Fortuna. Good luck."

"Thanks, Peppy. Talk to you later," Fox replied, touching the screen again to cut off the transmission. Fox glanced down at the screen in the middle of the control yoke, showing a computer generated display of the car's position in the boundaries of the airlane, then flew the car into the next lane.

"Hey, can we listen to something? This ride's been kind of quiet." Slippy requested.

"Do we have to listen to the wireless? There's too many commercials," Fox explained, "Mind if I put my PMP in?"

"Yo, I got mine, too," Falco remarked, unzipping a pocket in the chest of his auburn flight suit and pulling out a small black rectangular device.

"Sorry, Falco," Fox crooned with false condolence as he pulled out his own personal media player and turned it on, "I'm driving. Which means I've got the power. And I'm not feeling like Zoness ska today."

Falco grimaced with bemusement and put his PMP away as Fox slipped his media player into the skycar's sound system dock.

"I'm feeling a little John Stephens right now," Fox smirked.

"Of course you are," Falco mumbled, absentmindedly preening the azure feathers on his hands.

John Stephens was a popular alternative music artist from Anaxes that had won several Coria music awards for his poetic lyrics and his diverse style. Fox had followed Stephens' work since his acclaimed first album, _Across the Universe_. Stephens himself claimed to have heard the lyrics to the title song that inspired the whole album as a scratchy, accidental transmission on his wireless one night that he had never heard before, nor had ever heard again. Most people simply chocked the story up to Stephens hyping up the album, or the fact that he claimed to have been using Substance D at the time, but some hard core fans liked to believe that _Across the Universe_'s amazing lyrics were inspired by some interstellar transmission.

The dark hums of several cellos began to issue from the sound system, contrasting with the crisp strumming of an acoustic guitar like night and day as the album's title song began.

"_Words are flowin' out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither while they pass they slip away, across the u-ni-verse..." _

Falco exhaled, looking away from his hands as John Stephens' soft voice filled the car, staring for a moment at Fox's serene muzzle, calmed as he listened to the song. Carefully, Falco turned the volume down on the sound system, then said, "Hey, Foxie? We still gettin' food?"

"Sure, whatever, we've got two hours," Fox conceded, leaving out that his own stomach was beginning to feel empty, "Where do you want to eat?"

"There's probably a WacArnolds somewhere close…" Slippy offered.

"Eww, I don't want that shit. Ya know how much grease is in that food?" Falco retorted.

"We could try Spudd's, whatever that is," Fox mentioned, glancing at a lime green holographic ad for the diner describing the food as 'healthy'.

"Yo! There's a Hot Carl's right up there!" Falco mentioned with a gesture of his feathered hand.

"Why Hot Carl's?" Slippy demanded with some disgust.

"Why not Hot Carl's?" Falco returned.

"Well why not WacArnolds?"

"Cause WacArnolds makes me wanna bare my guts to tha' world, that's why."

"So what, now Hot Carl's is gourmet dining?"

"No, but it's the closest thing that doesn't make me wanna vom."  
"It is closest," Fox remarked, "Slippy, do you really care about where we eat?"

Slippy shook his head in resignation.

"Fine, Hot Carl's it is," Fox announced, guiding the skycar into the nearest exit route and approaching a large megablock skyscraper with an entire side of the building taken up by a huge holoscreen display of an attractive female avian using a Greystoke Industries holoband. Atop the building was a small restaurant of chromed metal and yellow neon lights. Projected over the restaurant was the hologram of a fat grey bulldog winking and sneering out at passersby. Directly below the bulldog, in a cursive font that suggested an attempt at nostalgia but in a garish red color were the words **Hot Carl's**. Below the name, in smaller orange lettering, was the motto: **The service is #1 and the food is #2!**

As the MS 300 glided towards the rooftop food joint, the screen on the control yoke displayed the message 'AUTO LANDING SYSTEM ENGAGED. DO YOU WISH TO LAND AT: Hot Carl's Fast Food Restaurant, 14843 MUSTANG ST., ROOFTOP SUITE?'

Fox pressed the icon to indicate yes, then heard the skycar whirr as it floated overtop the small, relatively empty parking lot that surrounded the restaurant on the roof of the megablock. The car softly fluttered into an empty parking space and disengaged, the safety locks on the doors unbolting themselves. Fox and Falco both opened the gull-wing doors of the MS-300 and stepped out of the grounded skycar, Falco stretching his legs for a few moments as Fox took in the panoramic view of Apollo that was offered by the vantage point.

As tall as the multiblock building was, the hundreds of surrounding structures were much larger, to the extent that the sun was blocked out by a nearby citadel. The surrounding buildings, slate grey and brown and so huge that the windows were only visible as tiny blue or white pinpricks along the monolithic surface, were so much harsher than the curved, predominantly white buildings of Corneria City that he'd grown up with. If the capitol's classical buildings could be compared to a Lylatian temple, the buildings of Apollo were more akin to a graveyard, with headstone-like buildings, ghostly holographic advertisements shimmering in every glance, and dull smog giving a bleak, grey look to what should've been a beautiful day. In Corneria City, most of the rooftops were reserved for gardens, parks, or residences for the wealthy. In all cases, there was some greenery amongst the glass, durasteel and concrete. Fox could see nothing green or natural in his view, the rooftops either empty or occupied by fast food joints, shopping malls or parking garages. It reminded him slightly of what the drab, industrial city of Wayland on Macbeth might look like if one were to give it an overdose of commercialism.

Dwarfing the multiblock that Fox stood on was a much larger boxy structure nearby, with dozens of floors of the building taken up by a huge holoscreen billboard for the Lylatian Church Association of Greater Apollo that read: **God lives! **Below this message, a crew of droids on a repulsorlift scaffold was in the process of removing some very large graffiti saying, **in your imagination**, with an arrow pointing towards the previous sign.

"Hmph," Fox exhaled softly, turning towards the restaurant and starting towards the doors as Slippy began to exit the car. A faint whirring of a tiny repulsorlift engine was all that Fox perceived before a low, artificial voice growled, "**Citizen. Do not move**."

Fox halted, looking up in the direction of the voice, and saw a small fish-like droid hovering over him, looking down at him with a single gold-hued holocam lens. Around the eye were four trident-like fins and a slender, pyramidal body that narrowed in the rear. It looked like a holocam droid, but like none that Fox had ever seen. The tiny droid scrutinized him for a few moments, chirped quietly, then began to hover away. As the droid left, it rumbled in a harsh tone, "**Thank you for your cooperation. We are here for your protection. Have a safe day**."

Fox stared at the departing droid in confusion as Slippy came up beside Fox.

"I heard about those," Slippy remarked, "Part of some program of the CSB to prevent crime, they're testing it out here in Apollo. There's thousands of droids like that all over the city keeping tabs on everyone who goes out. Morrow wants to put them in every city on the planet. Creepy, huh?"

"That's one word for it," Fox replied, unsettled as he watched the droid depart. He wished he would've known about that before taking a contract from the CSB. He didn't know if he liked the idea of working for an agency that was "keeping tabs" on the very people it was supposed to protect.

"Hey, are we just gonna stand out here or are we gonna eat?" Falco called, gesturing towards the restaurant as he held the door open for both Fox and Slippy. The vulpine and the amphibian walked across the asphalt parking lot and into the doors of Hot Carl's, finding themselves in a dining area with yellow walls, a counter and broad holoscreen menu taking up the rear of the room. The restaurant was almost vacant, with a plump female equine ordering food from the bored-looking teenage chameleon working the register and a group of teenagers eating at one of the tables being the only living occupants of the restaurant. Down a short hallway to the left of the service counter leading to the bathrooms was an antiquated-looking droid mopping up brownish-green liquid.

The three of them walked across the white tiled floor, past the statue of the fat bulldog mascot of Hot Carl's and up to the counter as the equine moved to the side and waited for her food. The chameleon stared at Fox, Falco and Slippy with some confusion and incredulity, neglecting to greet them as he scratched the shedding green skin on his face.

At this moment, Fox realized how out of place the three of them looked: Himself and Falco in their white Team StarFox jackets and flight suits, Slippy in his yellow engineer's coveralls and cap, stuck out vibrantly in the casually-dressed room of civilians.

"You guys cops?" the reptilian cashier inquired.

"We're professional bad asses," Falco answered curtly.

The chameleon blinked, oblivious to whom they were.

"You… don't watch the news much, do you?" Fox inquired.

"No. Should I?" the chameleon commented indifferently.

"It might do you some good," Fox replied.

"Oh, okay," the cashier nodded, staring down at the register, "Um, welcome to Hot Carl's, where the service is number one and the food is number two. How may I help you?"

"Slippy, you know what you want?" Fox inquired. Slippy nodded and Fox gestured him to order.

"Can I get a Mollywhopper with cheese?" Slippy inquired.

"What type of patty? We have beef, lamb, chicken, Arthro-meat and tofu," the chameleon said in a monotone.

The subject of food in the Lylat System was always a somewhat diplomatic affair. The diversity of intelligent species living in Lylat created several types of diets for restaurants to cater to, and more than a few delicate situations when it came to choice of food. Though chicken and lamb were both non-intelligent livestock, their similarity to the avian and aries races could cause offense to be taken if it were to appear on a menu. On the flipside, naturally carnivorous species like canids, felines and reptiles would feel discriminated against if meat _wasn't_ on the menu.

An additional issue was the subject of amphibians, whose native diet was certain insects of their home planet of Aquas. Arthro-meat, a type of meat product made from the insects of Aquas, had been invented to provide for amphibians that couldn't stand any other type of food, but some other species found the idea (not to mention the distinctive stench of cooked Arthro-meat) inherently disgusting. Thus, Lylat cuisine was defined by the variety of species that a single dish could appeal to, though no recipe existed that appealed to all.

"Arthr—nah," Slippy hesitated, "Can I get tofu?"

"Would you like blumpkin fries with your Mollywhopper?"

"Sure."

"Can I interest you in our signature drinks? There's the Red Wing, which is our strawberry shake, the Dirty Sanchez, which is our chocolate shake, and the Floater, which has been our signature drink for almost ninety years. We also have Hot Carl's own brand of mixed-fruit drink, Donkey Punch," The chameleon inquired, droning the invitation out as if he was delivering his own eulogy.

"I'm good; can I just get a medium Slusho?" Slippy asked.

"Anything else?" the chameleon inquired towards them.

Falco proceeded to order a Mollywhopper with a lamb patty and a Red Wing, while Fox ordered a roasted chicken sandwich (called a Chickenheader on the menu) and a small Spastic Cola. After paying the Ł17.85 cost of the meal, the three of them proceeded to the dining area and sat at a secluded table, across the room from the group of juveniles enjoying their food.

Falco's beak immediately went to work on his Mollywhopper, crunching down into the bread, lettuce and meat before disappearing it down his throat, while Slippy began to pop blumpkin fries into his large mouth. Fox absentmindedly chewed on the dry chicken breast and the slightly stale bun of his sandwich, putting it down and eyeing it with disinterest after a few minutes. It was almost too salty for him to eat, and the soda didn't quite taste right either.

Across the room, the teenagers that had been previously laughing and conversing loudly with each other suddenly grew much quieter. They started whispering to themselves and looking over at their table, but Fox paid them no mind and looked back down at his sandwich.

"Hey, Foxie. There's somethin' I've been meaning ta' talk ta' ya about," Falco mentioned.

"What?" Fox inquired, picking up his sandwich and taking another small bite, working the salty chicken over in his jaws. He scratched the left side of his furred muzzle as he waited for Falco to speak.

"I was just kinda wondering what we're gonna do with Krystal's old Arwing."

"What do you mean? What's there to do with it?"

"Well, Wolf totaled yours the last time ya' met him. An' that was fine an' all, since we had that spare we used ta' strip for parts. All we had ta' do was fix it up a little and it was your replacement Arwing. But now we don't have a spare. If somethin' happens ta' one of our ships, somethin' serious, we'd be down an Arwing for at least a few weeks, probably a few months before we'd be able ta' order a new one. I mean, it's not like we can just go to a dealership and pick up one a' those. Isn't that right, Slip?" Falco inquired.

"He does have a point, Fox…" Slippy mentioned reluctantly.

Fox's chewing slowed, and he swallowed with a stoic look on his face as he stared into Falco's eyes.

"So you're suggesting that we strip Krystal's Arwing and use it as our spare?" Fox interrogated quietly.

"Yeah," Falco nodded, "We don't know how long it's gonna take ta' find her. And when we do, we can always buy another, especially if this assignment works out. It's just for a while."

"It's Krystal's _Arwing_, Falco," Fox growled.

"I'm just sayin'. It was just an idea," Falco shrugged.

"We can talk about this later. Not now," Fox shook his head.

"Fox."

"_Falco. _Not now."

Falco's beak opened to say something else, but it closed and he sat back with a roll of his eyes. Fox didn't look at him and sipped at his watery soda, glancing instead at the group of teenagers across the room. One of the females, a feline in an antique-looking black dress, nudged the male sitting next to her and the male, a golden retriever of about eighteen with a spiked, candy apple red Mohawk in between his ears, got up and walked over to their table. All of the teenagers suddenly became silent and watched the male expectantly as he approached the trio's seats. Falco and Slippy followed Fox's gaze and watched the teenager, who came up to them with an awkward, lanky gait.

The golden retriever stopped about a meter from the table and looked over at Fox, then asked in a fittingly low voice, "Hey, aren't you guys famous or something?"

Slippy sniffed and sat back in his chair, while Falco began to smirk with pride.

"Or something," Fox answered quietly.

"Aren't you Fox McCloud?" the male retriever asked.

"Most of the time," Fox returned smoothly, a faint smile on his face.

The retriever blinked several times, made briefly helpless by Fox's statement. Falco snickered slightly, and the Mohawked male frowned and replied, "That's a yes, right?"

Fox smiled deeper and nodded with some amusement, "Yes that was…an answer in the affirmative. Just to be clear, I _am_ Fox McCloud."

The retriever quickly recovered from his stupor as Falco continued to giggle.

"Okay then, listen, uh, can I have your autograph?"

Staring at Fox, and then Falco, and then back to Fox with equal levels of hatefulness, the retriever scratched his Mohawk and pulled out a used napkin.

"I'm like, your biggest fan. You're like, my _favorite _space pirate," the retriever remarked in a dead tone.

The teenagers at the table began to laugh hysterically, the feline in the dress covering her face with tiny hands and seemingly trying to make herself smaller.

"_Space pirate_?" Falco demanded.

"Sure, you got a stylus?" Fox replied tersely, hoping to hide evidence of humiliation by calling the prick's bluff.

The retriever turned around and called out to the table, "Hey Bret, you gotta stylus?

Bret, a younger-looking ram in tight black jeans and a blue shirt, shook his horned head, his eyes closed and his face contorted with laughter. The punks at the table continued to guffaw, and Falco was now scowling at the dog with the Mohawk.

Fox simply smiled, his face completely tranquil.

"You know what? I think I've got one," Fox said, "Gimme a second."

He reached into the right pocket of his flight suit, feeling the stylus inside, then looked back at the retriever and said, "Hold up. Something's in the way."

In a slow but fluid movement, Fox pulled his ArmsCor EE-40 blaster pistol and set it down on the table with a rough thud. The laughing suddenly ceased, and the retriever took a timid step back. Leaving the blaster pistol out on the table, the barrel facing in the general direction of the retriever, Fox took the stylus out of his pocket and looked up expectantly.

"Okay. Let's see the napkin," Fox directed, extending his hand.

The retriever carefully began to put the napkin down on the table, and in response Fox rested his right hand on the blaster pistol.

"How about you just hand it to me?" Fox proposed.

The retriever handed Fox the napkin as whispers and giggles began to emanate once more from the table.

"What would you like it to say?" Fox asked.

The retriever looked at Fox blankly and then over to the other table, then he began to laugh nervously and shrugged, "I don't know."

"Well, what's your name?" Fox asked nonchalantly, whirling the pen slowly through the air with his right hand whilst absentmindedly spinning the blaster pistol like a roulette with his left, "Let's start there."

"Uh, Spaz," the retriever said, scratching his Mohawk, seemingly hypnotized by the spinning blaster pistol.

"Spaz?" Fox clarified, thinking to himself, _Yeah, he looks like a stoner. I bet Substance D or cotamine._

"Yeah, with an _s_."

"No shit, really? With an _s_? Like the cola?" Fox returned, and suddenly the table of teenagers erupted in screams of laughter. The retriever didn't answer. He didn't look quite so cocky anymore.

"Okay, how's this? _To Spaz, best wishes, Fox McCloud_," Fox narrated as he wrote, handing the napkin back to the retriever and stopping the spinning blaster pistol with the barrel once more facing the teenager.

"Hey, uh, thanks a lot, Fox," Spaz said, walking away.

"Yep. Live long and prosper," Fox replied with fake sincerity, shoving his blaster back into the holster.

Spaz walked back to the table where the punks were laughing even harder than before, half at Spaz and half at Fox. The feline took the autograph from Spaz and looked it over, groaning and covering her face again.

"Hey, Fox," Falco said quietly, looking over at the jeering table of teenagers, "Ya want me ta' shoot those guys?"

"No."

"Then can I shoot 'em for _myself_?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not cool."

"Don't we have like a license ta' kill or somethin'?"

"Yeah, you should read it."

The license that Falco was referring to, the Commonwealth Peace-Making Certificate, was the heavily-regulated license that governed the conduct of every legal bounty hunter and privateer operating under the laws of the Cornerian Commonwealth. Among a few notable rules, the certificate authorized the holder in the use of deadly force, but only while the holder was acting under the terms of their legal contract or in pursuit of a posted bounty. Additionally, the holder could only use deadly force if it was "a clear and reasonable application" in response to the subject's refusal to surrender peacefully.

"Look, they had a good laugh, I kind of turned the tables on them a bit, but in the end it was nothing. Just let it go," Fox respired, then looked over at Slippy's food and said, "Hey Slippy, you mind if I have some of your fries?"

"Go for it," Slippy offered, and Fox snatched a few and nibbled on the ends. The avian continued to look over at the teenagers irritably.

"Ya' sure I can't shoot 'em?" Falco queried, almost begging.

"Pretty sure," Fox replied, biting one of the fries in half.

The teenagers continued to laugh out loud, and suddenly the one named Bret called over to them, "Hey guys, how's that burger? I hear it's as good as anal sex!"

The others began to howl with laughter as Fox frowned slightly. A scowl appearing on his beak, Falco called back, "Is it like pitching or catching?"

Fox glared at Falco like one would an embarrassing child, just as Bret returned with, "_You'd _know, bird boy."

Falco's eyes swelled with disbelief and he dug his feathered fingers deep into the table as the teenagers continued to laugh.

"You know what?" Fox said, "I changed my mind. Shoot those cocksuckers. And while you're at it, shoot me too. Either me or yourself. One way or another, you've really got to put me out of my misery."

* * *

"So she just eyed me up from across the cafeteria and mouthed 'I have no gag reflex'. And she didn't. And she was a part-time model for Fusion. After we were all done, she told me it felt like her vagina got hit by a meteor."

"You're gettin' off topic right now."

"You're right. I digress. But, I mean, the thing about freshman girls was that they weren't even like _people. _They were just little headless, shaved pussies running around looking for a dick. _My_ dick."

"Lemme stop ya right there, Panther. I really don't like where this is goin," Wolf grimaced.

"I thought you wanted to know how I got kicked out of the Flight Academy," Panther called back from the bathroom.

"Yeah, and when I asked for just tha' gist of it, I was hopin' ta' avoid learnin' details about your… extracurricular sextivities," Wolf replied, lying down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling of the cheap hotel room that StarWolf had rented in Apollo.

The sparse room included two small beds, a sleeping bag that they had brought to ensure that everyone had their own separate sleeping arrangement, a nightstand between the two beds and a cheap flatscreen holovision mounted on the wall.

"Well my sextivities are part of the story," Panther explained.

"Then spare me. I'll see if something's on," Wolf came back, rolling over on the bed and reaching for the remote control on the nightstand.

"Why'd you ask if you didn't really want to hear it?" Panther inquired.

"I dunno, Leon's outta tha room and he's the only one I usually talk ta. I was kinda bored, so I figured I'd ask for shits an' giggles," Wolf shrugged, his clawed hands reaching for the remote control, spying an odd looking large bottle on the nightstand. He passed over the remote, grabbed the heavy glass bottle and began to examine it.

"So what, you stopped caring midway through the story?" Panther inquired.

"Nah, I realized why you an' I don't talk much," Wolf replied, inspecting the bottle, licking his black nose absentmindedly.

"Why's that?"

"Cause you annoy me. Don't get me wrong, you're a decent pilot an' I kinda trust you, I guess, but you're a fuckin' idiot sometimes, Panther. I figured I'd stop ya' before ya' pissed me off."

"Well, I appreciate the honesty, fuck you very much."

Moving on to a subject that interested him more, Wolf inquired, "What's this bottle over here? It's weird lookin'."

"Oh, that's mine. I picked it up from this shop last night while I was out having a smoke. It's a three chamber liquor bottle. Cool isn't it?"

"Huh. Kinda. I never heard a' one of these. So ya' put three types a' liquor in tha' bottle an' it all mixes together when ya' pour it out?" Wolf inspected, turning the bottle over and peering down the neck.

"Uh-huh. You can put some whisky in there, then some tequila, and then some _more _tequila. It's quite efficient; I'm dying to try it out. If you're nice, I'll let you try it out, too."

"I'm not too good at doin' that," Wolf smirked, placing the bottle back on the nightstand. Wolf wasn't much of a big drinker, anyway. He only drank on rare occasions in which he felt like getting hammered for celebratory purposes and those were few and far between given the amount of coaxing it took to make Leon drink with him. On those occasions, however, Wolf was known for testing his limits. The last time he'd gotten drunk, he bit into his own arm to discover that his blood tasted like vodka. That had been a good night. That is, aside from when Leon, in a drunken stupor, tried to taste Wolf's blood as well to confirm that it actually tasted like alcohol.

That had been a little weird.

As Wolf reached for the remote control, Panther stepped out of the bathroom and inquired, "What do you think?"

Wolf turned his head to see golden-eyed Panther wearing a bright green collared shirt with several top buttons opened to expose his upper chest, a navy blue pinstriped vest and a pair of matching slacks. A pair of short black leather boots was on his feet, and a small gold chain clipped to one of his belt loops and curved around his hip to a rear belt loop. The feline put his hands on his hips, displaying polished red rose-shaped cufflinks on his wrists.

"I dunno what ya' want me ta' say," Wolf responded, "It's flashy, it's too tight to wear any body armor underneath, 'cept maybe some low-grade armorweave, an' it makes ya' look like someone I'd wanna punch."

"Come off it. I look like a _rock star_," Panther defended.

"Ya' look ridiculous," Wolf growled, "Where'd ya' keep your gun?"

"Right in the vest," Panther explained, pulling out the chromed 23-E blaster pistol from within the vest, "I cut a hole in the breast pocket to put the barrel through so that I can keep it there. The vest's actually not as tight as it looks."

Wolf's lavender eye narrowed critically, his furry white eyebrow raised.

"Well fine, what are you wearing?" Panther demanded.

"This," Wolf answered, pointing to his usual outfit of spiked narcium shoulder pads, a bluish-grey vest over a black A-shirt, black pants, and combat boots with spiked kneepads.

"They're not going to let you into Glamorama with all that on. Is Leon planning on wearing his stealth suit? They won't let him in either," Panther remarked.

"That's why I was gonna wear that old duster a' mine over all of it. One a' tha' things Leon's gettin' while he's out is an overcoat for himself."

"Oh, clever idea. You know what you'll look like? Two guys trying to hide the fact that they're about to shoot up a nightclub. I thought we were just going to find and follow Kursed so that she'll lead us to the discs, not turn the place into a bloodbath."

"That's tha' plan. But there's gonna be tons a' guys in there lookin' ta' dead this chick, an' probably tha' guys tha' CSB's sending ta' back her up, too. I'm not walkin' inta' that shit-storm without what I need ta' ride it out."

"You've got a point. And it _is_ a splicer's club, so there's bound to be unsavory types like us in there anyway. If we pay off someone to let us in near the back, you and Leon could pose as my bodyguards, and I'd look like some VIP in this getup. That way, it wouldn't look quite as suspicious and you'd be able to walk in ready to do that ju-ju that you do."

"See? It all works out. And if shit goes down, somethin' tells me I'll feel a lot safer than you in those clothes."

"By the way, do we know what to expect from Kursed and the people the CSB is sending?" Panther inquired, striding across the room and sitting on the other bed, "I mean, we know the Suchos brothers and Priest and probably a few others are going to be there. But Connolly told us _nothing_ about Kursed, or the guys protecting her."

"Yeah, he probably doesn't know much. Not in his benefit ta' keep things from us that could help us get his ship an' his money," Wolf shrugged, sitting up, "As far as Kursed goes, there's a lot a' rumors. I heard she's an alien or somethin', but I also heard she looks like some normal chick that's had a fur-job ta' change her color. The only thing that's consistent is that she's a pretty tough mother."

"And what about the others? Do you think they'll just send CSB agents?"

"I guess. If they do, they'll be armed but not too hard ta handle. As I understand it, tha' CSB sometimes gets freelancers if they wanna get a job done that's too dangerous or sensitive ta' risk their own people on. It's how they handle their dirty work, sometimes. An' this is definitely dangerous, sensitive, and a little bit dirty."

As Wolf was finishing his sentence, there was the click of an electronic lock releasing and the door to the hotel room opened to reveal Leon, wearing an unbuttoned white collared shirt over a tight-fitting grey T-shirt and blue jeans. The attire was, Wolf supposed, Leon's attempt to look normal, but the immaculately pressed and clean look of the clothes and the way that the jeans were cut slightly too short for him made the chameleon look more like a mannequin. Leon walked into the room with several bags gripped in his left hand, remarking, "Dangerous, sensitive, and a little dirty? Are you trying to describe yourself in three words, Wolf?"

"Wouldn't be too accurate, would it? I guess I'm dangerous, but I'm not sensitive an' I'm definitely not _a little_ anything," Wolf smirked.

"And that's precisely what makes you _so _endearing," Leon replied, half sarcastic, half sincere.

"I think you mean en-_during_, Leon," Panther said, "Wolf doesn't easily endear himself. No offense, Wolf."

"None taken."

As the hotel room door began to swing shut behind Leon, Wolf could see a female collie in a pink halter top and jeans walking down the hallway with a young male pup of maybe five tagging along behind her. Wolf's sensitive, pointed ears were able to pick up the child asking the mother, "Can we get ice cream?" just as they passed. Wolf felt that unusual, uncomfortable sensation of weight in his chest, and he thought back to the boy on Aquas that he'd orphaned. The interesting thing was that it wasn't a painful feeling, like sadness or regret. It felt like something that he would have to carry for a very long time, more like a burden, a simple reminder. It wasn't a feeling that Wolf was accustomed to. He didn't quite have a name for it because he hadn't really felt it before, at least to the extent that it lingered like this.

The shifting click sound of the hotel door shutting brought Wolf's mind back to the present conversation, and he banished the weighted feeling with a brief shake of his head.

"Did you get my coffee?" Panther asked of Leon as he set the bags down on a small desk near the window that looked out onto the monolithic skyline of Apollo.

"Pennopolis blend, infused with espresso," Leon answered, taking a red vacuum-sealed package of coffee grounds out of one of the shopping bags, "It was expensive stuff too, twelve Liat for that little bag."

"Can't let you brew that," Wolf growled, "Not unless ya' got my coffee, too."

"Decaf Katinan roast. Much cheaper," Leon responded.

"Aww, thanks Leon," Wolf smiled, looking at Panther, "An' I didn't even hafta' ask."

"You'll never have to," Leon murmured almost inaudibly.

Wolf ignored the comment, still facing Panther.

"Leon, we were actually talking about tonight, trying to anticipate what to expect from Kursed and the CSB people she's meeting. Wolf thinks the CSB might've hired freelancers, since the assignment's sensitive and dangerous," Panther explained.

"That would make sense. If they're doing that, they wouldn't just hire anyone. Not with the _Xerxes _and all that money at stake. Which means they'd be some of the best out there," Leon reasoned.

"There's only a few licensed freelancers with tha' resources an' skills ta' take this on," Wolf said, "I'd say QuestForce, if they weren't doin' a reality show now. I could name a few solo bounty hunters that might. Maybe a group of 'em workin' together on tha' same contract?"

"Am I really the only one who's going to suggest the obvious?" Panther inquired.

"Who?" Leon inquired.

"A licensed privateer team with the resources you'd want to take on this assignment from the CSB? That doesn't make either of you think of you-know-who?" Panther suggested.

"For shit's sake, tha' name's not sacred or anything," Wolf growled, "Just go on an' say ya' think it's McCloud."

Panther shrugged one of his shoulders, his black feline tail twitching on the bed.

"Who else, other than maybe us, has as many resources as StarFox?" Panther offered.

"He _is _a pretty likely possibility if the CSB's hired freelancers, Wolf," Leon concurred.

"Is StarFox even operatin' right now? Last time we saw 'im, it was just McCloud an' tha' robot, an' Lombardi came back at the end there. Is Peppy Hare still head a' the Army?" Wolf inquired.

Both Leon and Panther looked at each other and then back at Wolf, with no answer to be had.

"Peppy coulda' set StarFox up with tha' CSB. They always were pretty well connected," Wolf mused, "Who knows, maybe tha' frog an' tha' blue chick are back, too. Just like old times."

"So what do we do if it's StarFox?" Leon probed. Wolf smirked, his whiskers preening upwards as his rough tail undulated on the bed's comforter.

"Tha' same thing we _always _do when its StarFox," Wolf growled, "We go at 'em harder than we've ever gone before."

Leon's face turned upwards in a beaming, unsettling smile, his reptilian eyes gleaming with the promise of the kill to come.

Panther, on the other hand, was pensive, the white scar on his face contorting with the turning of the feline's lips.

"Wolf," Panther said, "I just had a thought."

"Yeah?"

"Your mention of Krystal. The blue chick. It made me think back to what you said about how Kursed might look like a regular female with a fur dye job," Panther informed.

Wolf's eyebrow rose for a moment, then the same thought dawned on him and he suddenly frowned with a measure of concern. Leon's smile disappeared as he suffered a similar epiphany.

"You don't think…?" Panther trailed off.

"Naw," Wolf rumbled, "Not a chance in hell."

"No _way _the Lylat System's _that _small," Leon murmured with a shake of his head.

"Just in case though," Wolf growled, "We're definitely gonna bet on running inta' them tonight."

* * *

"I still can't believe you back there. Did your mom drop you on your…egg or something when you were a kid? There's got to be an explanation," Fox hissed, trying hard not to assume that Falco's behavior was the result of alcohol. He was always cocky and prone to being impulsive, wasn't he?

"Don't talk about my momma, fuzzball, an' don't act like her either. It's not like I did anything crazy," Falco responded defensively.

"What part of going into the parking lot and shooting out their windshield _didn't_ sound crazy to you, Falco?" Fox demanded hotly as the three of them walked down the street in Apollo's dark undercity district, the lower levels of the megacity that hardly ever saw the light of day and was home to the poor and criminal population of the metropolis.

"Does that sound like something a hero of Lylat would do? No, it doesn't," Fox scoffed, passing by a large female porcine on the street as they turned.

"Ya' really need ta' lighten up about this," Falco said.

"Falco, maybe you just shouldn't talk…" Slippy trailed off, looking cautiously around at the grimy, murky city streets and yellow artificial lights providing sparse illumination. Far above, the only visible sky was in patches of dull, lightless grey, most of the sunlight light blocked out by the hulking buildings all around.

"Slippy's got some _really _good advice there," Fox informed him, "You'll follow it if you're smart. And please just keep your beak shut while we're meeting with Bowman. The fact that he's Andross' grandson and head of the ALF makes this delicate enough, the last thing we need is you sparking something off."

"Gimme a break, Foxie," Falco groaned.

"We're almost there. Act professional. These guys probably won't like us. That's why we can't give them a good reason not to," Fox instructed.

The three of them soon came to a somewhat empty area of large warehouses, with a medium-sized low-income apartment complex made to look tiny by the surrounding skyscrapers. A wide courtyard of dying grass stretched out in front of the apartment complex, with a set of stairs leading up to a railed porch with a pair of glass double doors leading into the building. Sitting on or standing around a bench in front of one of the brick walls of the apartment complex were six male apes, most of them smoking kreteks. They were all rather athletic looking and sported the same general outfit: heavy black boots and black pants held up by suspenders, bright red turtlenecks and black berets on their heads. On the left breast of the turtlenecks, over where their hearts would be, was the logo of a circle encasing a raised simian fist, with the letters ALF underneath. Only one of them wore something different, a striped collared shirt with a red vest. Stitched into the side of the vest in red letters were the words "Ape Power!"

As the three of them approached, the apes got up and started walking forward to meet them with an almost confrontational swagger. The StarFox Team members and the apes met and stopped, one of the apes flicking his kretek down at the ground between them.

"What're you classy-lookin' bitches doin' here?" the primate in the "Ape Power!" vest interrogated harshly.

"We're here to see Dash Bowman," Fox explained, "Is he here?"

"That depends if Dash Bowman wants to see you," one of the apes grunted.

It was at this moment that Fox noticed blaster pistols tucked into the pockets of at least four of the apes, and he made an effort to choose his words wisely.

"We're expected," Fox said.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the vest-wearing primate replied, "I'm sure you expect tha' whole _world_ to just roll out the red carpet for your preppy ass."

"Look, we're from StarFox," Fox explained, pointing to the winged fox logo on the cuff of Falco's jacket, "Dash is expecting us-"

"_You're _from StarFox?" one of the apes interrupted.

"Then that would make _you _Fox McCloud, wouldn't it?" the vest-wearer interrogated.

"Yes," Fox answered.

"Oh, we've heard a _lot _about you, haven't we, boys?" The vest-wearer stated, after which the other five primates nodded their heads.

Two of the primates began to slowly circle the group, so that one was to Fox's left and another was to Slippy's right. Slippy took a step back, only to be further approached by the ape nearest to him. Both Fox and Falco's eyes were trained on the pocketed blasters of the apes in their sight, trying to anticipate what might come next. Fox's heart began to beat slightly faster as he tried to defuse the situation.

Before Fox could even speak, the vest-wearer inquired, "You know how many apes you've killed? Like opposed to the other people you've killed for the government? I'm just curious if you keep count."

Fox breathed before he responded. "We're not looking for trouble," he said calmly, staring into the ape's brown eyes.

"Yeah, but I think _they_ are," Falco muttered.

"Shut up, Falco," Fox ordered, keeping his eyes on the ape.

"I mean, here we are just doin' our jobs, not tryin' ta' start a goddamned thing…"

"_Falco_…"

"And _these _uppity monkeys come up ta' us on a power trip," Falco finished.

The upper lips of the apes curled in disgust and offense, now all looking at Falco.

"Falco, please shut the fuck up," Slippy instructed nervously.

Slowly, Fox was lifting his elbows away from his body so that he could respond if or when things got ugly. The apes were definitely branching off now, two for each of them, slowly forcing Fox, Falco and Slippy to step away from each other.

"What the fuck did you say, you scissor-lipped gado?" one of the apes demanded of Falco.

"I think ya' heard what I said loud an' clear," Falco replied, "Ya wanna treat me like a racist bigot? Fine, I'll treat you like a racial stereotype. An' ya' wonder why people call you chimpos an' spags when all ya do is give 'em a reason ta'."

A few of the apes' jaws dropped. All of their eyes burned with rage.

"Oh _shit_," Slippy breathed.

The four apes with blasters suddenly pulled them out and leveled the guns at each of them, two aiming at Fox and one each aiming at Falco and Slippy.

"Fuck you, you fucking ocker," the ape spat at Falco as he pointed a blaster at his chest.

"Falco, I hate you right now," Fox muttered, raising his hands slowly, then calmly saying, "Please put the guns down."

"Fuck you, too. Preppy cane," the vest-wearer snarled.

"Hey. Monkey," Falco said, raising his hands and looking his assailant dead in the eyes, "I'm in a bad mood right now; tha fuzzball over there wouldn't let me dish out some serious whup-ass on these assholes that I thought coulda used an ass-whuppin'. Now I'm all pent-up. It's not a great idea ta' point a gun in my face."

"Falco, really shut your fucking mouth. Right now," Fox snarled, "Get rid of your weapons. Please."

"Fuck the both of you!" the vest-wearer yelled, glaring at Fox and thrusting the blaster to his head, "You're not in any position to bark out orders."

The longer the blasters stayed out, the higher the chances were that someone would get shot. Fox was no longer feeling diplomatic; he was in survival mode now. He could only hope that Falco and Slippy followed the same instincts, and acted at around the same time.

"This is your last chance ta' get tha' gun outta my face. Unless ya' want it up your ass," Falco menaced quietly. The ape's only response was to step closer and point the blaster almost point blank at Falco's beak.

"Fox…?" Slippy inquired, his bulbous eyes brimming with anxiety.

"Drop your weapons!" Fox snapped, trying one last time to negotiate, "Put your fucking weapons down!"

The next few moments happened in slow motion for Fox.

Faster than anyone could see it, Falco's wing-like hand snapped onto the primate's wrist, shoving the blaster upwards as his leg plowed into the ape's sternum and sent him flying backwards into the brick walls of the apartment building. The avian twisted around, slamming the side of his fist into the other ape's jaw before spinning back the other way and delivering a punch that sent the stunned primate into the dead grass.

Fox's eyes suddenly darted back to the vest-wearing ape in front of him, whose lips curled in anger as his finger slowly pulled the trigger of the blaster aimed at Fox's face. Fox darted to the side and grabbed the ape's wrist, shoving upwards and watching a scarlet blaster bolt flash into the sky. With his hand gripping the vest-wearer's wrist, Fox pulled downwards as his other hand swung hard into the ape's elbow, connecting with the popping snap of a joint being dislocated. Before the ape could even scream, Fox swung the ape by his dislodged arm into the chest of the other armed ALF member standing behind Fox, just as the ape began to aim with his blaster. The two primates hit the ground in a heap just as Slippy shoulder-threw one of his assailants into the dirt. The only ape left standing was directly behind Slippy, who pulled his right fist back in preparation for a punch to the amphibian's spine, but in a single motion Slippy whirled around, the telescoping electro-baton in his hand extending to full length just in time to connect with the primate's face. The electro-baton hit the ape's cheekbone with a shower of sparks, throwing him off of his feet with a roar.

Falco hopped forward and delivered an axe-kick into one of the downed ape's stomachs as Slippy stabbed his shock stick into the ape that he had previously thrown to the ground. Fox kicked the blaster out of the hand of the ape without the dislocated elbow, glaring down at both and growling, "Don't get up."

Time returned to normal speeds and Fox became aware of his heart jack-hammering in his chest, his breath escaping from his jaws in quiet gasps. The three of them all looked at each other and then at the crumpled bodies of the six defeated attackers at their feet, then gave a curt, quiet nod to one and other. Falco pulled out his ArmsCor EE-40 blaster pistol, gripping it in both hands as his hard blue eyes darted around cautiously.

"Do. Not. Shoot anyone," Fox snarled at him.

"I wasn't gonna," Falco retorted defensively, "Just showin' 'em not ta' fuck with us."

"Don't even have it out right now," Fox ordered, his emerald eyes scanning the windows of the apartment complex, "We don't want anyone watching to think we killed them. No blasters."

Falco slowly holstered his gun, looking down at the groaning apes that Fox had disarmed.

"So do we just go in now?" Slippy asked, unsure.

As if to answer his question, a flood of ten apes surged out of the apartment building's doors, all in red turtlenecks and black berets and all armed with shortened blaster carbines. The apes stopped at the railed porch of the apartment complex and trained their weapons on Fox, Falco and Slippy with the cocking sound of releasing safeties.

"Ya' sure 'bout that 'no blasters' thing?" Falco muttered as they put their hands up once more.

After a few moments of the three of them staring down the barrels of ten blaster carbines, the group of apes parted to make room for an eleventh person behind them. The ape that stepped forward looked distinctly different from the others, with light blond fur and bright blue eyes. He wore a black beret like the others, but instead of a red turtleneck he wore a tight-fitting black leather jacket with a rather high collar and a red and black ALF patch sewn into the left breast. Though he was about a head shorter than the others, the young ape walked with a kind of hostile confidence and animal charisma that could dominate a room. Fox recognized the ape. He'd seen him on holovision just the other day, talking about how God was dead. Dash Bowman stared down at the three StarFox Team members for a moment, then at the six ALF members lying at their feet.

For a few tense seconds, not a sound could be heard.

"Blast these fuckers, Dash! Light their asses up!" The vest-wearing primate screamed, cradling his dislocated arm.

"I don't remember asking you a God-damned thing, Huey!" Bowman snapped, "From what I saw, you were acting like an ignorant fucking spag out here, and then these boys laid your ass out. You got what you deserved; pulling blasters out on a whim like you were running the block or something. No wonder the cops hate us. I know I told all of you better than that."

Huey cringed and groaned in pain, rocking his body back and forth on the grass.

"If any of you can get up, do it," Bowman ordered.

Only two apes slowly got to their feet; the one that Fox had thrown Huey into and the one that Falco had kicked into the wall.

"Alright," Bowman nodded, "Now I want you two to bring everyone that can't get up inside for first aid. Riley and Alex, stay out here and help 'em. Then take Huey's ass to a medcenter. See if you can get some of those clothes off 'im first; no reason to let the cops know one of us was in a fight. Tell the doctors he fell or something. What happened to James and Marty?"

Bowman pointed to the two apes that had met the end of Slippy's electro baton.

"Er, close encounter with a shock stick," Slippy answered sheepishly, slowly collapsing his electro baton and clipping it the belt of his coveralls, "Sorry."

"Damn. You boys roll hard," Bowman remarked, "Better take them to the medcenter too. Make something up, I guess. As for the three of you: come with me."

Bowman beckoned the three of them to follow as he turned and began to head back into the apartment complex. Fox, Falco and Slippy cautiously walked across the yellowed grass of the courtyard and up the stairs, passing by the ten armed gang members and continuing towards the doors. Eight of the ALF guards followed after the trio, ushering them slowly into the apartment building. They walked through a dimly-lit lobby of light grey walls, following Dash Bowman through a red door and into a ferroconcrete staircase. After traveling up to the fourth floor, Bowman led them through a hallway and opened a nondescript red door with the numbers 424 near the top.

"Chris, Orlando, stay out here. The rest of you go," Bowman ordered, then looking to Fox, "Come on in."

Still not sure what to expect, Fox followed the young primate into a white walled apartment with outdated looking furniture scattered around the room. A large desk strewn with papers and a portable computer dominated the left side of the room, along with a large black safe and several filing cabinets. On the right side of the room sat an old green sofa, a coffee table and a cheap holoprojector display facing towards an empty wall in the room. The other walls were near covered with posters, printouts of news journal articles, and still images held up by thumbtacks. A crimson red flag with the ALF logo slumped dramatically over a corner of the room behind the desk, pinned to two different walls. A large, depowered e-sheet attached to a stick leaned against the desk itself, and Fox could just make out the faded words WE SHALL RISE ABOVE left by the deactivated electronic ink. On another wall was a poster of an athletic-looking female ape in a pale green dress with her hair in a bouffant standing confidently next to a gorgeous-looking female avian in a bikini, with the words WE ARE JUST AS BEAUTIFUL AS THEM in between the two.

Emanating softly from a personal media player connected to a small sound system was an offbeat, rather jazzy tune made up of a squeaking violin, a piano and an electric base. The song had a rhythmic rising-and-falling type of sound that Fox had never really heard before, but he rather liked.

As Slippy closed the door behind them, Fox could hear a high voice on the recording sing "_Picture, I'm a dreamer, I'll take you deeper, Down to the sleepy glow. Tiiiime is a low…Don't you know?_"

"That's a nice tune," Fox remarked offhandedly as Bowman strode across the room and sat down in a high-backed leather swivel chair at the desk.

"They're an all-ape band called The Primes," Bowman mentioned, looking at Fox with those intense blue eyes of his, "They're good; you should check 'em out sometime."

Fox nodded as Falco quietly made his way across the room and began to take a seat on the arm rest of the old sofa.

"I didn't say you could sit down," Bowman informed the avian calmly.

Falco gave Bowman a slightly irritated look, and Fox shot his second-in-command the evil eye to warn him against any sarcastic remark.

"…Can I sit down?" Falco asked slowly.

"Sure," Bowman shrugged after a moment.

Falco rested his backside and tail feathers on the arm rest, and Fox continued to give him a disparaging look. Falco narrowed his eyes dismissively at Fox as if telling him to get off his case. Fox looked back at Bowman just as he began speaking.

"Well, you put three of my boys in the hospital," Bowman smiled condescendingly, "As far as first impressions go, you're off to a hell of a start."

"Well, your boys don't make the best first impressions, either. They seem pretty trained for hostility towards anyone who's not an ape," Fox said, "Kind of reminds me of someone else who said he wanted to help apes regain their pride. Then he started a war and killed billions of innocent people."

Bowman snorted with a level of snide amusement.

"You know, I've had to deal my whole life with people comparing me to my grandfather," Bowman intoned, "Even though I was twelve years old, living in Corneria City with my parents and hadn't really heard from or seen my grandfather for two years when the Lylat War started. Even though Andross _disowned _my mother when she refused to send me to Venom so I could become some poster-boy for my grandfather's new order, people always assumed we were devoted followers. The CSB certainly did. For the whole war, I had to deal with being watched twenty-five hours a day, with listening devices planted in my house. Every month my parents would be hauled into a CSB field office for an overnight interrogation to make sure they weren't Venomian _spies_. The surveillance stopped after you _killed_ my grandfather, but the comparisons didn't. College was an interesting time. Professors and classmates wondered if I was going to bomb the school, I wasn't allowed to live in the dormitories, and I sure as hell couldn't get a girl unless she'd never heard of me. But you know what? I'm not necessarily bothered by the comparisons. My granddad was a gifted scientist, at the top of his field in applied physics, genetics and engineering. He was a civil rights leader that stood up to a blatantly speciesist government. And he took the most inhospitable planet in the Lylat System and turned it into one of the most powerful empires civilization ever saw."

"He was also a murdering psychopath that fancied himself a god," Fox replied. He reminded himself not to antagonize the ALF leader, at least as long as Bowman still had something he needed. But he found himself unable to abide by someone admiring the creature that had murdered not only his father, but countless others.

"I admire my grandfather for the brilliant mind he was, not the monster he became," Bowman replied stonily, "There's no denying that he did horrible things, probably more horrible things than good. But there's also no denying that he was _great_. And even though I might emulate him in his desire for equal rights for all, I have _no _desire to follow in his footsteps."

"It's hard for people to see that when your group dresses in the colors of the Venomian Army and you train them to hate non-apes," Fox remarked.

"Before you jump to conclusions like that, maybe you should consider that they _come _to me trained to hate non-apes," Bowman retorted with some hostility, "Growing up in a world where they're still second-class citizens trains them to do that. Let's see how altruistic _you_ are when you're treated like someone who doesn't belong. Someone who's made to feel inherently ugly and worthless from the start. This universe isn't as black and white as you might want to think it is, Mr. McCloud."

Fox stayed silent for a moment, staring into Dash Bowman's pale blue eyes. For the first time, the ape reminded him nothing of Andross.

"Maybe you're right," Fox nodded quietly.

Bowman smiled. The song by The Primes ended, and the apartment instantly felt smaller, somehow more intimate in its silence.

"You know, when Zaius sent me the disc, I thought it was just because he knew I wouldn't give it to my second-cousin. You know, Andrew."

"Yeah, we met him," Falco quipped.

"My family never really got along with his," Bowman informed them, "But I still asked him why he sent it to me. After all, the disc I have is probably more important. You need it to disarm and approach the ship; given enough time and resources in the corridor between Sector X and Z, you might run across the ship and not even need the other disc to track it. You know what he said?"

"What?" Fox asked.

"He said it was because he knew that I didn't want it," Bowman informed, "Because I wouldn't use that kind of power, and I wouldn't let it fall into the hands of someone that would."

Fox smiled faintly. There was something about Bowman that he had to respect. There was no doubt that the primate was passionately angry about the injustices that he fought against. But it was also becoming clear to Fox that Bowman wasn't going to let those injustices change him for the worse.

Because in the end, maybe all Bowman really wanted was a better world.

"He was right about the first part, at least," Bowman sighed, turning around and entering a combination on the safe's lock. After a second, there was a clanking sound as the safe unlocked and Bowman opened the door, withdrawing a metallic grey holodisc and a datapad.

"What do you mean by that?" Fox probed.

"Yeah," Slippy said, "You're giving the disc to the CSB. You're not letting it fall into the wrong hands."

Bowman looked at both Fox and Slippy skeptically, raising a blond eyebrow.

"The ALF has never committed a crime or done anyone any harm that wasn't in self-defense. All of those blasters my boys are using were legally bought, and with the exception of Huey and his dumb ass, they've never been used on anyone that hasn't shot first. And yet the CSB has been monitoring, infiltrating, and sabotaging my organization since practically the beginning," Bowman informed them, "And it's not just me. They do it to other civil rights groups, college political groups, anyone that rocks the boat. Now they're doing it to regular, every day citizens. I trust you've seen those scanner droids that the CSB's deployed in our fair city 'for our protection'? And on top of all of that, they're getting their own private starfleet, independent from the military."

Fox didn't say anything, unable to really argue against anything that Bowman had said.

"Let me put it this way," Bowman stated, "Do you _really _trust Gillian Morrow with the most dangerous ship in the galaxy?"

A faint chill crawled up Fox's spine, and his tail went stiff. Again, he didn't really have anything to say. What really _could_ he say? That he was working for the good guys? That wasn't sounding so true anymore.

But if the Cornerian Commonwealth weren't the good guys, who were?

"So why give the disc up?" Fox asked, swallowing.

Bowman looked down at the holodisc in his hand, examining his own reflection in the shiny plastic.

"Because they agreed to stop treating me and my people like criminals," Bowman smiled sadly, "If the CSB no longer considers the ALF a subversive terrorist organization, we can get more good done. Sometimes you have to work with the system you're fighting against. It's hard to fight the bad guys when they're the ones in power."

Fox looked away from Bowman, back towards the e-sheet sign with the faint message of WE SHALL RISE ABOVE. The bad guys weren't really in power, were they? The world _couldn't_ be as bad as that.

"Okay, let's do this," Bowman said, picking up the datapad and using a stylus to trace his signature on the touch-screen, "They sent me this agreement to sign and put my fingerprint on. Now it's in writing that I'm handing over the disc in exchange for removal from the terrorism watch list."

After a moment, Bowman pressed his thumb to the datapad, then set it down on his desk and picked up the disc.

"Here you go, Mr. McCloud," Bowman said.

Fox gingerly took the silver disk, gazing at it for a moment before putting it in the pocket of his jacket. However his feelings about this assignment were now, the first part was over at least.

"Thanks, Mr. Bowman," Fox nodded.

"Regardless of our differences, I respect you, Mr. McCloud. It's hard not to think highly of someone that stands up for what's right no matter the odds," Bowman smiled crookedly, "I might admire my grandfather for his talents, but _you're_ the person that made a twelve-year old primate realize that it's possible to change the world for the better."

Fox smiled, nodding and feeling a little bit better about how things had changed since the war.

"Thanks, Dash," Fox smiled in return, turning to leave, "If the ALF could ever use StarFox's help some day, give me a call. Hopefully, I'll see you around."

Slippy opened the door of the room and began to step out of the apartment as Falco got up from the sofa and made his way towards the exit as well.

"Fox," Dash said.

Fox turned around and looked back at the ALF leader. The young primate's brow was wrinkled, his eyes rounded with concern.

"She made me promise not to say anything, but you should at least have a heads-up," Dash explained quietly, "Kursed arranged this whole thing for me and Zaius to surrender the discs to the CSB."

"Yeah, I know," Fox nodded, "We're going to meet her tonight."

"She wanted you specifically," Dash informed, "I know she wanted the CSB to hire StarFox as the middlemen on this whole thing."

Fox's vulpine ears twitched with unease, his mouth turning downwards.

"Do you know who she is?" Fox probed. Dash shook his head.

"Never met her before. Most of the time, we spoke on the televox. The only time we met, she was wearing a hood. Couldn't see her face," Dash said, "But I had some of my boys hiding out when we met, just in case it turned out to be a trap. She knew where every single one of them was, before she even got there. I'd be careful tonight."

Fox nodded his head slowly, his eyes looking downwards in thought.

"I will," Fox replied in a hushed tone, realizing just how hazardous tonight might be, "Thanks for the heads-up."

"Good luck, Mr. McCloud," Dash said.

"You too, Mr. Bowman," Fox replied, sparing one last look at the ALF leader before walking through the door and leaving the office.

Dash Bowman glanced at the chronograph on his personal media player.

Six hours to midnight.

* * *

Fun fact: Did you know that the song Across the Universe was actually beamed into deep space in 2008? John Stephens' story about his inspiration for the album comes from this little anecdote. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review. The next chapter should be out a lot sooner, and prepare yourself. This chapter was probably the last one for a while that's relatively sane. The exposition is over. Shit's getting real. See you guys next time!


	6. Glamorama

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here you go, as promised, a much faster update. I've wanted to write most of the scenes in this chapter for a long time, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. This is the one you've been waiting for, kiddies. This is where shit gets real. On the advice of a very helpful beta reviewer, I've split this chapter up into two halves, so as to go easier on your attention span and your eyes. Your music selection here is somewhat important, as it kind of sets the atmospheric mood for several scenes within Club Glamorama, so aside from the John Stephens song playing in Fox's skycar (if you don't know what it is anyway, I'm slightly disappointed) your soundtrack selection is:

Let It Rock by Kevin Rudolf featuring Lil' Wayne (unidentified in the story)

Telephone by Lady GaGa (portrayed in the story as a tune by Duchess DaDa)

Disturbia (The Jody Den Broeder remix, youtube it if you care) by Rihanna (portrayed in the story as a remix by Candice Compton)

Ready, Steady Go by Paul Oakenfold (unidentified in the story)

Break the Ice by Britney Spears (portrayed in the story as a song by Lindsay Portman)

So, if you're down with this whole soundtrack thing, load up that playlist. If you're not, don't worry, it's going to start disappearing after this chapter. I've kind of covered the Lylat music scene for the most part. Please read, review, and enjoy the carnage.

* * *

**-Glamorama-**

The shadows behind Club Glamorama were so deep that Wolf almost activated his implant's night vision function, but he knew it would hardly matter in a few moments. The StarWolf Team had split up hours before, Wolf piloting his Wolfen onto a secluded, nearby rooftop to keep in handy in case things got serious tonight. Wolf had covered the rather distinctive starfighter up with a tarp so as to better conceal it from both prying eyes and any passing police. He'd then met back up with Panther and Leon, taking a taxi to the rooftop night club. Rather than waiting in the packed line out front, StarWolf had quietly slipped towards the rear of the building, amongst the darkness and dumpsters near the back door. The three of them were completely alone aside from one homeless dreg of an amphibian sleeping in rags against a trash compactor and a firmly-muscled equine guard standing in front of the rear entrance under the light of a yellow glowlamp.

Draped over his shoulders was the old brown duster that Wolf hadn't worn in years, the metal shoulder pads and body armor underneath giving him an even bulkier appearance than normal. Leon walked beside him, clad in a similar black overcoat that only accentuated his tall, slender form, while Panther traveled slightly behind and in between them, wearing the green collared shirt and vest outfit that he'd shown them earlier that afternoon. Wolf and Leon stayed silent and tried to look like bodyguards as they approached the rear entrance, the guard stiffening and crossing his beefy grey-furred arms over a black shirt with the word SECURITY on the chest as soon as they came to a stop in front of him.

"You're not supposed to be back here," the equine bouncer informed them stonily, staring down at them from his impressive physical height.

"Well, the line out front is just _atrocious_, and I don't think your coworkers at the door would take kindly to my two associates here," Panther explained, gesturing to Wolf and Leon with a smile.

The guard let out a slightly irritated breath that sounded more like a small gust of wind, boring into Panther with dull, impatient eyes.

"It's just I never go out in public without them. I'd rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them, you understand? And I don't think the bouncers in front would appreciate that, so I was wondering if we might be able to come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement?" Panther explained, pulling out a blue-toned twenty Liat banknote and presenting it to the guard, his red rose cufflinks glinting in the ambiance.

The equine was not amused.

"Go back to the front and wait in line, sir," the guard instructed firmly.

"Perhaps you'd like a _more _beneficial arrangement?" Panther insisted, turning up the charm and adding another twenty Liat note, offering his black furred paw once more with a beguiling grin.

"Get back to the front before I _throw _you there," the equine menaced.

Panther's grin faded into an amused smirk and he switched the money from his right hand to his left, his golden eyes shining in the light of the glowlamp.

"We're going to put this as politely as possible," Panther remarked gingerly, "Wolf."

Wolf's arm snapped from the depths of his coat, thrusting the end of his bayonet-tipped DC-15 blaster up to the equine's muzzle. Leon's SK-7 and Panther's 23-E soon joined the selection of weapons pointed at the guard's head.

"We will fuck you up," Wolf snarled, the equine's face now slack with terror.

"A word of advice," Panther suggested, "Take the twenty Liat. Let us in. Forget that you ever saw us. You won't like what'll happen if you don't."

"After all, how long do you think it'll take your coworkers to discover that we shot you in the head and tossed your body in a dumpster?" Leon hissed.

The equine stood frozen for a moment, his black eyes wide as he gazed down the barrels of the three blasters in his face. His breathing coming out in short, barely-audible whispers, the equine slowly twisted the handle on the door and began to push against it, the loud throbbing of synthetic dance music instantly flooding into Wolf's ears. The door opened to reveal a short, dim hallway with multiple doorways to the right, ending in a curtain of silver beads that flashed with multiple bursts of light as if a gun battle were underway on the other side.

"Good horsey," Panther crooned mockingly, putting his blaster back into the breast pocket of his vest, "Now, I gather that they do drugs in here, but am I allowed to smoke inside?"

With his focus still on Wolf and Leon's blasters, it took the guard a moment to stutter, "An—anywhere but the dance floor."

"Fair enough," Panther nodded, pocketing one of the twenty Liat notes and shoving the other into the guard's waistline, "Thanks for being so reasonable."

Panther strutted through the doorway and stood against the wall, after which Wolf and Leon slowly made their way into the short hallway with their blasters still trained on the horse's face. As soon as they were inside, Wolf slid the door shut with his foot, slamming it closed on the guard with a rough thud. Wolf then flipped away the folds of his coat, holstered his blaster, and re-cloaked himself with a swishing of fabric as Leon did the same. They silently traveled to the end of the hallway, following the music as it grew louder, shaking the floor itself, and Wolf parted the beads with a clawed hand.

The StarWolf Team beheld an enormous dance floor flooded with people of every shape, size and species, all gyrating wildly to the loudly thumping synthetic sounds and the whines of an electric guitar as colored lights and laser displays flashed overhead. Beyond the packed dance floor was an equally crowded area of tables and wandering server droids, and above this was a raised terrace area of more tables with a balcony that overlooked the dancing masses. Artificial fog blanketed the ground in a fine mist, blue and green lasers sweeping over the crowds like spastic plasma swords in rhythm with the music as it built upwards in intensity. Several on the dance floor raised their hands, stomped their feet and shouted along with the music's throaty male vocalist that declared, _"Because when I, arrive, I-I'll bring the fire make you come! Alive! I can take you higher! What this is, forgot? I must now remind you: Let it Rock, Let it Rock, Let it Rock!"_

Wolf looked to his right to see a long bar set up against the wall serving dozens of patrons, with neon blue lights covering the trimmings as well as the bar's surface itself. Jutting out of the wall above the bar was an enormous waist-up statue of Anubis, the Lylatian angel of death, his black arms and dark wings spread out menacingly as if to claim everyone in the club for himself. Easily bigger than a skycar, the Anubis statue's eyes glowed a hot neon pink, projectors in the eyes flashing the words **Rock It, Rock It, Rock It**, over and over again above the dance floor in purplish-pink letters.

"Split up," Wolf commanded, "Keep in touch using your earpieces. Leon, cover the other side 'a tha' dance floor. Panther, grab a table near tha' entrance. Give a shout if ya' see anythin' but don't make a move unless I say."

Leon and Panther nodded at Wolf, slipping miniature earpiece comlinks into their ears and quickly disappearing into the frenzied herds of dancers. Wolf walked along the bar, passing several patrons before hopping up on a barstool and looking critically out over the dance floor, the raised seating area and the second terrace level.

As he scanned the club, Wolf growled to himself, "Image filter: X-ray. Gun scan."

The normally blue-tinted vision through Wolf's optical implant was replaced with stark black, the dancing crowds before him rendered as furless, ghostly shapes vaguely approximating their visible forms. Wolf's optical implant was capable of a startling amount of functions, including a backscatter X-ray filter that allowed him to detect concealed weapons. He closed his eye so as not to strain it, scanning the crowds with his implant alone and observing several figures all over the club with what appeared to be blasters concealed on their person.

"Revert default vision," Wolf mumbled, the X-ray filter being replaced by the regular blue-tinted visible spectrum.

He then touched a clawed finger to the side of his implant, activating the integral comlink as he continued to run his eye and implant all around the club.

"There's more than a few people packin' heat in here. This place is swarming," Wolf informed his teammates. As both Panther and Leon indicated that they had heard him, Wolf felt an insistent tapping on his shoulder and turned around in his barstool to face a white male terrier behind the bar cleaning a shot glass.

"If you're going to sit down you've gotta order something!" the bartender informed snottily over the music.

"Pure water," Wolf barked back.

"Cheap-shit lobo…" the bartender accused with a roll of his eyes, grabbing a glass and blasting it full of water with a hose-fed siphon gun. He set the glass down on the glowing neon blue surface of the bar with an intolerant gaze, shoving it towards Wolf, who instantly took it in his hand with an acid glare.

"It's a jack for the water," the bartender said.

Wolf reached into his pocket and pulled out a five Liat note, slapping it onto the bar and pushing it in the barkeep's direction.

"Here's five," Wolf answered, "Don't bother me."

The bartender instantly shut up and snatched the five Liat, making his way down the bar to serve other patrons. Wolf raised the glass to his lips and drank, feeling the cold refreshment slide over his jaws and down his throat. He set the glass down, wiping the excess water off of the fur of his muzzle as a sultry feminine voice proposed, "Riddle me this: What kind of guy goes to a bar and orders _water_?"

Wolf looked to his right to see a fit, female fennec fox about his age wearing a tight blue silk dress that ended just above her knees and caressed every luscious curve of her body. Her chestnut fur was immaculately tailored and conditioned, the color contrasting beautifully with her clothes. Clasped delicately in her left hand was a half-drunk pinkish red-colored cocktail, while her right hand held a purple magic marker that she had been using to write something on a cocktail napkin in front of her. Wolf raised his eyebrow and looked the vixen up and down, then growled in response, "Tha' kinda guy that's not lookin' ta' get drunk."

"Then why go to the bar in the first place?" the vixen probed further, her jade-colored eyes showing something more than just a casual interest.

Wolf once again looked over the vixen, and he slowly gave off a crooked, predatory smile.

"Maybe I'm hopin' ta' keep my wits about me an' take advantage of all tha' females that come to tha' bar," Wolf suggested with a leer.

The vixen at once began to giggle, setting down the magic marker and putting a graceful hand over her mouth. Wolf's smile only intensified as she continued to laugh, and he cockily took the cocktail glass out of her hands and briefly sipped it. From the sweet, tangy taste of the drink, Wolf figured it to be a Caper, a cocktail of cranberry juice, vodka and orange liqueur.

"Ooh, you're… you're a _scoundrel_, that's what you are," the vixen accused teasingly, gingerly taking her drink from him and setting it down on the bar.

Wolf drew slightly closer, his voice growing slightly deeper as he responded, "Darlin, you have _no_ idea."

"You'd be surprised at the ideas I can get," the vixen sent back suggestively.

Wolf leaned back, somewhat surprised as she ran her green eyes over his body. The vixen didn't seem to find his implant unattractive at all. If anything, it only seemed to further pique her curiosity. Wolf's mind began to drift away from the job as his tail began to wag involuntarily under his duster. Almost unconsciously, Wolf allowed part of his coat to fall open, exposing the fur of his muscular upper chest revealed by his A-shirt underneath. The vixen eyed him like a new toy.

"Huh," Wolf remarked with a grin of lupine teeth, "So, what kinda girl goes to a bar an' chats up random _scoundrels_?"

"The kind of girl that's up to no good," the vixen answered slyly, running the tip of her finger along the rim of her cocktail glass. Wolf glanced at her fingers for a moment, imagining what else those hands could do.

"Good girl gone bad, huh?" Wolf investigated. The vixen leaned in closer to Wolf, her green eyes gleaming with a kind of unspoken promise.

"Baby, you have _no_ idea," the vixen breathed.

There was a moment between the two of them in which absolutely nothing needed to be said. The lupine and the vixen hungrily gazed into one another, each imagining what they could do to the other behind closed doors. The blaring club music seemed to somehow dull to a vague whisper.

"What's your name, scoundrel?" the vixen inquired, cocking her head and large ears (which were nonetheless sexy) to the side coyly.

It was against every instinct in Wolf's body to answer truthfully. For all that he knew this female could be Kursed herself. Even if she wasn't, Wolf _was _a wanted criminal with no small amount of notoriety. On top of all that, he should've been focused on the job. At the same time, something else told Wolf that this was one of those rare occasions in which it was safe to play it dangerously and see what happened.

"Wolf," he answered.

"_Wolf_?" the vixen chuckled, her eyes lighting up, "How _blunt_."

"How 'bout yours?" Wolf interrogated.

The smile faded from the vixen's face and she sighed, as if waking up from a dream. She looked away from Wolf and downed the rest of her Caper in a single gulp, placing the glass back down on the bar.

"Fara," she answered with disenchantment, "Fara Phoenix."

Wolf looked at Fara as if seeing her for the first time, his pointed ears perking up in attention.

"Now would that be _the _Fara Phoenix?" Wolf investigated, "Daughter a' Icaros Phoenix? Head a' Space Dynamics? _That_ Fara Phoenix?"

"_That_ Fara Phoenix," Fara confessed dully, "Daddy's little princess. That's me."

"Ya' don't sound too pleased."

"Should I be?"

"They say it's better ta' be rich than poor," Wolf shrugged.

"Who says that?" Fara inquired.  
"They," Wolf clarified candidly.

"I don't think they're rich. What about you? Are you rich?"

"I get by. I got a lot a' expenses, so there's not too much left for me."

"Then take it from someone who's dealt with it her whole life," Fara said, finally looking back at Wolf, "It's fun sometimes, but being rich isn't _free_. I can have what I want. But I can't really do what I want."

"Seems like we got opposite problems," Wolf mused, "I can do what I want but I can't get what I want."

"Seems we do," Fara smiled softly, resting her elbow on the bar, "And what is it you _do _want, Wolf?"

"What do ya' mean?" Wolf asked. Fara shrugged, crossing her legs. Wolf found it hard to stop staring at them.

"Everybody wants something. Out of life," Fara explained, "What do you want most out of life, Wolf?"

"A challenge," Wolf answered without hesitation, "How 'bout you? What do _you_ want?"

"Everything," Fara replied, her jade-colored eyes lighting up once again, "Or as much as I can get."

They looked into each other once again, the music seeming to go quiet as Wolf's lavender eye met her jade ones. His mind wasn't on the job at all; she was the only thing in his head. He could tell that he was the only thing in hers, too. Those green eyes seemed to penetrate Wolf, exploring his every surface with their desire, and for once he almost lamented having a job to do.

The moment passed and the pulsing music once again returned, Wolf and Fara sitting up in their seats and looking around at the club as if both remembering where they were. Wolf shook his head and turned back towards the dance floor, trying to get his focus on the job and off of Fara's body. His tail was wagging so much, slapping against the fabric of his duster to the point that Wolf almost grabbed it just to make it stop.

"Look," Fara explained, "I'm here with some friends…well, they're not really my friends, but I can't really go home with anyone right now…"

"Same here," Wolf blurted out, his eye fixed on the dance floor.

"Oh," Fara nodded, "Well, regardless… this was a nice conversation. We should do it again sometime. I think we could… _talk_ for a really long time."

The smile once again returned to Wolf's muzzle, and his eye drifted back in her direction. Fara reached into a tiny purse hanging by a string-like strap around her left shoulder, pulling out a white business card and a stylus. She scribbled a number on the back of the card, then passed it to Wolf. He looked down at the white card, seeing the Space Dynamics logo and the words FARA PHOENIX, VICE PRESIDENT: RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT on the front, with various contact numbers on the side in much smaller print.

"That's my televox number on the back," Fara explained, putting the stylus away and picking up the purple magic marker from the bar, "It'll forward you to my comlink if you give it a call."

Wolf nodded silently as Fara picked up the marker and finished writing on the cocktail napkin, quickly stuffing the magic marker into her purse. She then brought the cocktail napkin to her lips, kissing it, wetting it with her mouth, before sliding off of the barstool and directing her jade eyes at Wolf once more.

"I've got something to take care of, but don't be a stranger, Wolf. Hope I see you again," Fara smiled, caressing him with her eyes.

"Ya' just might," Wolf grinned.

Fara turned and walked out onto the dance floor, coming up to a black-furred feline in a yellow dress and tapping her on the shoulder. The feline turned and shouted, "Fara!" in an overly dramatic and sisterly fashion.

"Chloe!" Fara returned in a candied tone, embracing the feline and patting her on the back, sticking the napkin to her dress.

Wolf's eye went wide, his jaw dropping slightly as he saw the single word written on the napkin in giant garish purple letters: CUNT.

Fara suddenly broke off and disappeared into the herds of dancing club goers, laughing gaily as a perplexed look appeared on Chloe's face. The feline reached behind her neck, feeling the napkin and pulling it off, bringing it slowly in front of her face. The cat's golden eyes went wide, her fur stood on end and then she let out a giant mama of a scream that pierced the entire club and stopped several of the people dancing around her dead in their tracks. The feline tore into the crowd, continuing to scream as she raced in the same direction that Fara had disappeared, dropping the napkin onto the dance floor where a thoroughly pleased male Labrador picked it up as a souvenir.

The entire time, Wolf could not stop himself from chuckling, and he looked down with even deeper interest at the business card, then back up to the mayhem that Fara had caused. He shook his head slowly and slipped the card into his pants pocket under his duster.

Maybe he _would _call her.

"Wolf, what was _that_?" Leon's voice came in through the comlink, "Is everything okay?"

"Fine, Leon. Just a little catfight," Wolf replied, grinning.

"Who was that hot little number you were chatting up at the bar? She just ran past. Did she have anything to do with it?" Panther inquired.

Wolf looked across the dance floor, up to the raised seating area where he could just see Panther sitting down at a table with a lit kretek in his mouth.

"Yeah," Wolf answered, "She gave me her televox number."

"Ha-ha! Get it, son," Panther purred with elation, at the same time Leon made a small choking sound.

"She was _probably _a spy or something, Wolf," Leon hissed critically, "I _hope _you're not thinking about _calling _her."

"Lighten up, Leon," Panther tediously returned as Wolf rolled his eye, "What's the good of being an interstellar soldier of fortune if it can't get you a little tail now and then?"

"Maybe you've forgotten that we have a _price_ on our heads?" Leon shot back with perhaps a little too much passion in his voice, "Seriously, Wolf, get rid of it. I bet she's an undercover cop or something. Even if she's not, she'll probably turn you in once she realizes who you are."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Panther commented, "In my experience, females find the 'outlaw' thing _sexy_."

"Look, both y'all need ta' drop this," Wolf commanded, sipping his water, "Even if I was gonna call her-"

"So you're _not _calling her?" Leon interrupted.

"I _said_ drop it, Leon," Wolf snarled over the comlink, "What I do is my own goddamn business. Whether I call her or not, it ain't happenin' till after we get done with this job. Now both of ya, get your heads in tha' game. Have ya' seen anyone we know?"

"Well, no StarFox or blue vixens, if that's what you're worried about," Panther remarked, "No one that looks like a proper CSB agent, either. I can see the Suchos brothers at a table near the back corner. They seem to be waiting for something. There's more than a few drug deals going on up here; they're probably armed, so if things get messy we'll have a bunch of confused people shooting on top of everything."

"I see a few people waiting along the edge of the dance floor; they definitely don't look like they're here to dance. One of them could be Arty LaMonica; I'm not sure though. If it is, he's got a partner," Leon reported.

"Refresh my memory: Who's Arty LaMonica?" Panther requested.

"Cheese-eating lowlife that did time for bank robbery. Escaped with a bunch of cons when the Hamill Cartel broke their leader out. He's been smuggling and pulling jobs for whoever pays him since," Leon explained.

"Oh, I _hate _rodents. They're shifty bastards," Panther groaned.

"Alright, keep me updated on anythin' that happens," Wolf growled before taking his finger away from his implant.

Wolf sat back against the bar, watching the dancing herds of club goers, his eyes sweeping past a tall ape in a dark green sweater, moving through the dancers. Wolf looked back at the ape, his body stiffening as he suddenly realized that he recognized him: It was Julius Priest, the former member of the Venomian 401st Legion that the Kerouac Cartel had hired to assassinate Kursed.

Priest suddenly locked eyes with Wolf, the two mercenaries glaring at each other from across the club. Just as Wolf's right hand began to creep back into his coat to put a hand on his blaster, Priest bowed his head respectfully in Wolf's direction and disappeared back into the crowd. Wolf's body relaxed and he let out a gruff exhalation of breath.

He was definitely glad he brought his body armor and his usual equipment.

If something went wrong, this place would become a madhouse.

* * *

Often, when Fox's mind wasn't otherwise occupied, he thought of Krystal.

He didn't know why, but right now all that he could seem to think about was that trip that they'd all taken to Corneria's Hadria Valley Nature Preserve in the countryside, shortly after the mission on Sauria during which Fox and Krystal first met. It had been mostly Peppy's idea; since Krystal had recently joined the team and Falco had recently returned, he figured that they needed some time to strengthen bonds and grow to know each other once again before they could hole up on the _Great Fox _and take on another assignment. It had taken some effort to convince Slippy and Falco, neither of whom were big nature lovers, but eventually they all camped out in the mountainous, secluded valley for two weeks while the _Great Fox _was in dry-dock for her long-overdue upkeep after years of disrepair.

It proved to be one of the happiest times in Fox's life since before his father died. Falco truly began to feel at home with the team again, and Krystal quickly became a welcome newcomer, forging relationships with everyone, especially Fox. While Peppy, Slippy and Falco were grilling meat and vegetables on the primitive charcoal grill they'd brought, Fox and Krystal would be hiking the trails along the Bastion Mountains or taking a dip in the lake. Even though they talked extensively with one another, Fox most remembered the silences between them. Krystal was one of the only people that Fox could comfortably share a silence with; her presence alone was enough to satisfy him.

On the last night of their encampment in the valley, Krystal woke Fox up for a midnight hike under the stars. When they returned to Fox's tent, he asked her if she wanted to come in with him. She said yes.

That was the first night they made love, and even though they did so several times afterwards, there was something priceless about that first night under the stars. With no technology, no assignment, no life-threatening menace to spoil it, it was just the two of them together, after so much anticipation.

Almost every night that he'd slept alone since then, he couldn't help but remember how it felt to have her next to him. And once he did, there was only the pain of knowing that there was no one to blame but himself for losing it.

"Fox?" Falco said awkwardly.

"Hm?" Fox inquired, brought out of his reverie.

"Blue light," Falco informed him, nodding his beak upwards to the repulsorlift traffic signal floating above the airlane. The blue light indicating that Fox could proceed was indeed blazing brightly, several skycars ahead of him already speeding forward through the air.

Fox cleared his throat and blinked hard before pressing on the accelerator with his foot and feeling the MS 300 skycar zoom forward with a whurr of the engine. As Fox guided the car through a curving airlane around a large cylindrical skyscraper glittering with artificial lights, he could hear the ghostly, echoing opening riff of another John Stephens song on Fox's PMP.

"_I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together,"_ John Stephens crooned hauntingly slow, _"See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly. I'm cryin'…"_

Both Fox and Falco were wearing the expensive clothes they'd bought from Space Cowboy earlier that afternoon. Falco wore a pair of black pants and a pure white tee-shirt, under a bright red leather jacket with black trim on the sleeves and across the chest. He'd popped the collar upwards, giving him a very thrilling, virile look overall. Fox had gone for something slightly more subtle, a pair of dark grey faded designer jeans and a black v-neck tee-shirt under a brown suede jacket. Though Fox had to admit that he liked the clothes, he knew that Falco had likely just been trying to have fun rather than seriously thinking about how they'd fit in at the club.

Up ahead, they all could see the large grey skyscraper with the smaller building with pink neon lights along the rim of the roof on top. On the screen in the center of the control yoke, Fox read the message 'AUTO LANDING SYSTEM ENGAGED. DO YOU WISH TO LAND AT: Club Glamorama, 22386 DOLBY ST., ROOFTOP SUITE?'

Fox pressed the icon to indicate yes, feeling the skycar lurch slightly as it pulled out of the airlane and hovered above the nightclub. Several cars were packed into the spaces on the club's roof; several more probably parked in the garage levels below; however the MS 300 found the last remaining rooftop parking space and began to descend onto the pavement. As the car floated down into the space, Fox could see the long, dense line of people waiting to get into the club, as well as the purple letters painted into the stone walls that read CLUB GLAMORAMA, with the slogan below in acid green: "The better you look, the more you see."

Glamorama was but one of a multitude of specialized nightclubs that had sprung up among the planetary cities of the Lylat System, known as splicer's clubs. These edgy new nightclubs catered specifically to people who engaged in the somewhat taboo practice of interspecies sex, known popularly as splicers. Because of the highly liberal nature of these clubs in which alternative sexual relationships were encouraged, splicer's clubs were also commonly havens of drug distribution and consumption, and were often run by criminals or even the Cartels.

As the MS-300 settled down into the parking space with a slight jolt, Fox pressed the starter button on the dashboard to deactivate the skycar, cutting off John Stephens just as he mused softly, _"Sit-ting in a Zoness garden, waiting for the sun… If the sun don't come you get a tan from standing in the Zoness rain-"_

Fox slipped a tiny earpiece comlink into his left ear, and then pulled his EE-40 blaster out of the shoulder holster that he and Falco had both equipped so as to carry their guns under the civilian clothes. He ejected the gas magazine from the hand grip and examined the small plastic gage on the inside. The gage was colored a bright green, showing that the magazine was filled to almost full capacity with blaster gas, allowing for more than 200 shots as long as the battery held out. Fox checked the battery, a small cylinder under the barrel of the blaster, seeing that it had a full charge before slapping the gas magazine back into the blaster's handgrip and tucking the blaster back into the holster under his left arm. As Falco checked his pistol, Fox turned to the back seat and faced Slippy, sitting with his arms crossed and an awkward look on his face.

"I don't like you guys going in by yourselves," Slippy mentioned, "Isn't it going to be dangerous in there?"

"Psh. That's why you're not comin'," Falco muttered.

Fox shot Falco a look, then turned back to Slippy.

"Just stay out here and keep an eye on the outside of the club. You can reach us on our earpieces if you see anything," Fox said, "Remember, we're just in there to meet Kursed at half past midnight."

Slippy looked at the chronograph of the wrist-mounted data assistant on his right wrist.

"It's almost midnight right now," Slippy informed them.

"Then that means we should be in and out of there in half an hour," Fox said, "Just keep in contact and you'll know if anything happens. Otherwise, just stay out here and wait for us."

"What about Kursed?" Slippy inquired, "What about what Bowman told us? She wants _us_, specifically for some reason. That doesn't sound good."

"Quit bein' such a tadpole," Falco scoffed.

They both ignored him.

"Maybe she just knows our reputation. Either way, we're there to protect her. Not arrest her," Fox smiled reassuringly.

"Okay. I'll wait out here," Slippy said quietly.

"Good," Fox nodded, turning back around and opening the gull-wing door of the MS-300, stepping out of the car and into the open air of the Apollo night. He closed the door and began to walk towards the front entrance of the club, waiting briefly for Falco to catch up with him.

"Good thing he's not goin' in there. Probably get scared shitless in tha' first five minutes," Falco smirked, "Remember that time we were huntin' afta' Pigma during the Aparoid thing? You two stormed Wolfie's hideout in Sargasso? He could barely handle himself."

"You're too hard on him. You know that, right?" Fox accused softly as the soles of their shoes scraped across the pavement.

"Bah," Falco huffed dismissively, "Maybe it'll motivate him ta' do betta'. It's not like he's useless; he's just mostly useless in a _fight_. And he knows I'm just messin' with 'im."

"You think so?" Fox prompted as a skycar whirred through the airlane overhead, "Maybe you should tell him that sometime. Ask him how it makes him feel."

"I've done it for _years_, Fox," Falco shrugged, "It actually seems ta' have given him a little backbone lately."

"He's also recently gotten a _wife _that wants him to quit the team," Fox countered.

Falco's feathered brow furrowed, his hard gaze growing somewhat softer.

"Ya' don't think he'd _quit_, do ya'?" Falco asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Fox replied, "I'm saying don't give him a _reason _to want to choose _her _over _us_. He may be useless in a fight, but he keeps this team running, in expertise and technical skill. And let's not forget, he's one of my best friends. Yours, too. You might want to remind him of that sometime."

Falco was silent, glancing down at the pavement for a moment as they walked. He didn't seem to have a sarcastic response this time.

"And another thing," Fox added, "Do me a favor and stay away from the bar when we go in."

"What?"

"I just don't want you drinking while we're in there."

"Fox, I'm not gonna drink on tha' _job_! Whats tha' matta' with you?" Falco retorted hotly, clearly insulted.

"…Nothing," Fox replied, unsure of whether or not Falco had deserved that comment. At some point, he needed to just sit down with him and get the facts straight on the whole alcohol situation. He'd probably have Peppy there, too, just to mediate the discussion.

Falco continued to stare at Fox offensively for the next few moments as they approached the packed line leading into Club Glamorama and the three large bouncers at the front. By now, they could hear the dull thumping of music from inside the club, held back only by the thick frosted glass club doors.

The three bouncers (two large equines and a smaller bulldog) looked at Fox and Falco as they came closer, one of them looking down onto a datapad in the crook of his arm.

"You on the list?" the bulldog guard demanded of them.

Fox reached into his back pocket and pulled out the wallet containing his Commonwealth Peace-Making Certificate, flashing it open and revealing both the certificate itself and the small silver badge that came with it.

"We're on official business. Here to see the club owner," Fox informed them confidently, as Falco flashed his Commonwealth Peace-Making Certificate as well.

The three bouncers looked at each other for a moment, then looked back at Fox and moved out of his way, informing him, "The owner's office is in the hallway in the back, up the stairs. We'll tell him you're coming."

Fox nodded, walking past the bouncers with Falco in tow, much to the annoyance of several people waiting in line. As they stuffed their CPCs back into their pockets, Falco whispered to Fox, "I didn't know these things let us do that."

"They don't," Fox corrected, "I just let them think we're cops; I don't feel like standing in line."

"Ya' know, Foxie, I _knew _there was a reason I hang around ya' so much. Seein' you break tha' rules is just too good," Falco remarked with a smirk.

Fox walked up to the frosted glass doors and yanked them open, stepping into Glamorama quickly with Falco close behind.

The pounding beats of a dance song blasting through the speakers hit Fox's chest like a wall, the plucking sounds of a harp audible just only slightly under the throbbing rhythm and the belting voice of Duchess DaDa. Fox found himself in a packed area of tables and seats, crowded with people traveling to and fro, serving food and drinks, fighting over tables or just standing around trying to converse over the blaring music. Beyond this area, Fox could see an expansive dance floor flooded with people moving and gyrating in tune with the rhythm as Duchess DaDa wailed: _"Stop calling! Stop calling! I don't wanna think anymore! I left my head and my heart on the dance floor! Stop calling! Stop calling! I don't wanna talk anymore! I left my head and my heart on the dance floor!" _

Above the gesticulating club-goers on the dance floor, lording over all of Glamorama like some malevolent puppeteer was an enormous black statue of Anubis, his eyes glowing a shocking pink as he seemingly declared his will through a holoprojector in his head that endlessly flashed the command **Dance. Drink. Consume. OBEY. **

It was somehow like an entirely different universe from the city beyond the club's boundaries. The sense of space was distorted by the thick crowds of people flooding the club from wall to wall; the sense of time distorted by the fact that there was not a window or view of the outside world in sight; the sense of reality distorted by the laser beams, colored lights, and holographic displays that blazed on and on in an epileptic's worst nightmare. There was no time, there was no space, there was no reality, there was only the club and the unlimited promise of debauchery within.

"This place is kinda sweet, isn't it?" Falco called over the music, putting a hand on Fox's shoulder and snapping him out of his thought process.

Fox hesitantly nodded in agreement, more out of a lack of a desire to explain his disquiet than actual concurrence, and they began to make their way through the throngs of people buzzing with conversation.

"What's a telephone?" a male badger inquired to a female vulpine standing next to him, "Is that the same thing as a televox?"

The vixen shrugged her shoulders in confusion, and Fox quickly lost sight of both of them as they moved past. Fox was beginning to feel odd, as if the skin under his fur had suddenly shrunk tighter to his body. He began to breathe slightly faster as he and Falco continued through the seating area.

They traveled by a table with a circle of people passing around an octagonal mirror with lines of cotamine powder arranged around the surface. Just before they slipped out of view, Fox witnessed a female avian take a burner to one of the lines of powder, caramelizing the drug before sucking it into her beak with a straw. Fox slowly began to shiver, and he struggled to keep control of himself as he and Falco moved past the table of cote-heads.

Almost immediately after they moved past, Fox could see another table with a crowd of people of different species, this time helping themselves to a bowl of bright red capsules. As a male collie broke open one of the capsules and snorted both halves, leaving a dull yellow residue on his nose, Fox realized with discomfort exactly what was happening. They were all using Substance D, the powerful and highly addictive deliriant that had redefined the interstellar drug trade. Known for the vivid hallucinations and breaks with reality it could cause, Substance D had a special significance for Fox: it was a refined, commercialized form of dalianide, the vision-inducing drug that Wolf had poisoned Fox with months ago during their run-in on Temple. Just the thought of being near that toxin again was enough to make Fox's stomach tighten painfully.

The collie leaned backwards in his chair, throwing his arms in the air and proclaiming, "I… am the QUEEEEEEEEN….of France!"

"What's France?" an amphibian sitting next to the collie requested.

"I don't KNOW!" the collie instantly began to sob.

Something began to churn in Fox's gut. He could feel the warm rush of saliva building up within his mouth. He faltered to a stop, watching as Falco continued for a few half-steps, then turned back and faced Fox in confusion.

"Fox?" Falco called over the blaring music, his blue eyes widening with concern, "Ya' alright?"

Fox began to shiver even more as he held his stomach, looking up at Falco and trying to convince himself that Falco's beak wasn't melting.

He looked back at the table and wished he hadn't, watching as a male vulpine snorted the contents of a Substance D capsule into his nose, leaning back in his chair. Fox knew it wasn't possible, he knew it couldn't be true, but he couldn't quiet the thoughts in his head telling him that the vulpine looked just like _him_.

The vulpine suddenly and briefly convulsed, then turned to the teenage ram next to him and screamed, "There are fucking hairless apes _reading_ about this right now!"

"What? Like in a _story_?" the ram inquired with confusion.

"Yeah!" the vulpine maintained.

"Dude, you fucking _are _high!" the ram began to tremble with laughter.

Fox retched slightly, and he felt Falco's hand grip his shoulder to steady him as he stumbled forward, facing the black carpeted floor.

_No_, he pleaded to himself, _This _can't _happen right now. _

He _couldn't _have a flashback. Not on assignment. Not when it could get him killed.

"Fox, what tha' _fuck _is wrong with you?" Falco demanded.

Fox balled his hands into fists as the world began to spin under him, locking his knees and gritting his teeth, forcing himself just to breathe.

_Fight through this_, he commanded himself, _Don't let this happen to you._

"Fox!" Falco snapped, putting his other hand on Fox's shoulder.

Fox compelled himself to stand up straight and look Falco in the eye. His stomach continued to swirl, his skin tingling, but as long as Fox focused on just breathing constantly he seemed to retain some control. Falco's icy blue eyes were rounded with confusion and dismay, his beak hanging slightly open as he looked at Fox.

"Yo, what tha' fuck is wrong with you, buddy?" Falco demanded, his tough voice edged with a small amount of fear.

It took Fox a moment to answer, giving him some more time to breathe as he looked at Falco and nothing else, trying to make sure his focus didn't drift to the table of D-users nearby.

"I'm… I'm fine…" Fox wheezed, swallowing slowly.

"What?" Falco requested, "I can't hear ya' over tha' music!"

"I'm _fine_, Falco," Fox answered loudly, ignoring the twisting in his gut.

"Fine? Bull_shit_, you can barely stand!" the avian snapped.

"Falco!" Fox sent back, "I just need to go to the refresher and get some air, okay? I'm fine. Trust me."

Falco continued to regard him incredulously, his beak still open in a mix of concern and disbelief. After a moment, the avian's beak closed and he exhaled, staring at Fox now more miffed than concerned.

"You sure ya' can make it to tha' refresher an' back?" Falco interrogated.

"Yes," Fox insisted, "I'm fine, just let me go alone."

"Then go. I'll let it go for now," Falco said, "But when we get done with everythin' tonight we're gonna sit down an' you're gonna tell me what tha' _fuck _just happened ta' you. We still got about twenty-five minutes, so take care a' yourself. I'll wait here."

Fox nodded, picking his feet up and moving through the crowd towards the end of the seating area and the small steps that led to the sunken dance floor. Falco continued to watch his leader with genuine concern as he disappeared through the throngs of people.

Fox's feet felt like they had been dipped in blocks of ferroconcrete, his joints replaced with fast-drying cement as he stumbled his way through the hordes.

_Come on, _he ordered himself, _Find the refresher. Just find the refresher. _

He looked up, into the faces of the people all around him, watching them warp and change out of the corner of his eye as his mind continued to play tricks on him. At some point, the Duchess DaDa song had ended and replaced itself with the thumping remix of a Candice Compton song Fox remembered hearing on the wireless some time ago.

"_What's wrong with me…? Why do I feel like this?" _Candice's voice rang out, _"Ohhhhh… I'm goin' cra-zy now…."_

Fox's feet began to feel slightly lighter as he made his way to the set of stairs leading down to the dance floor, stumbling down the steps and trying to ignore the female ape traveling in the opposite direction, whose eyes appeared to be glowing red. As he made it down to the final step and onto the lower level of the dance floor, he spotted a pair of doorways in the far wall, one with a male symbol and one with a female symbol above the doorway, both glowing neon green. Fox shoved and fought his way along the rim of the dance floor, passing by a thin chameleon in a black overcoat that seemed to be eyeing him with utter surprise.

As Fox neared the doorway to the male refresher, he glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened with terror as the head of the Anubis statue twisted to follow his progress.

_Focus, focus, focus_, Fox thought, _This _isn't _happening. _

Fox finally made his way to the doorway, traveling into the small corridor before throwing open the red door and stumbling into a refresher with dirty grey floor tiles and dark green walls.

Against the wall was a long mirror and a series of hand sinks, while lining the perpendicular wall were a group of four urinals of various sizes to accommodate the needs of different species. Against the opposite wall were two stalls with toilets inside.

Fox almost wanted to thank Lyla that the refresher was completely empty as he staggered towards the sink, leaning with his chest into the porcelain bowl as he reached up to the faucet and turned the dial. A stream of cold water came gushing out of the faucet, and Fox desperately scooped the water into his mouth then splashed another handful of water into his face. The water soaked into Fox's fur, the coldness almost instantly relaxing the skin underneath. Fox kept breathing, feeling his stomach slowly begin to uncoil.

In that moment of darkness, he thought once more of Krystal, of that beautiful night so long ago in the mountains, and he felt his body relax. With one final shiver, Fox felt the relapse leave him, shaken but functional once again. He looked up from the sink, staring into the emerald eyes of the distressed-looking vulpine in the mirror. Fox took a few more deep breaths, still leaning into the sink for support. As he calmed himself down, Fox stood up straight once again, rubbing the wet spots on his face dry with a red-furred paw and straightening his brown suede jacket.

He almost jumped in shock as the door flew open and a somewhat scrawny-looking rodent in a grey hooded sweatshirt and jeans burst into the refresher. Fox locked eyes briefly with the rodent as he sauntered in, the rodent quickly looking Fox over and muttering an apology with shifting eyes.

Fox nodded as he looked around for a hand dryer, spotting one near the door.

As he went up to it, the rodent remarked, "Hey…hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"

Fox paused for a second, looked at the rat, and then shook his head. Even if the rat was just some innocent fan, Fox didn't have the time or the energy to deal with him right now. It was bad enough that he'd just had a flashback; he had to get back out into the club and wait with Falco for Kursed.

"No, I'm sorry," Fox replied, approaching the hand drier and activating it. The dryer whooshed to life as Fox began to rub his hands together in the jet of warm air.

"No, no, I know you…" The rat remarked with a soft shake of his head, "You're Fox McCloud, aren't you?"

Fox chuckled, shaking his head towards the rat.

"I'm sorry, you're mistaken," Fox insisted with a polite smile.

"No, I'm not. You're Fox…" the rat trailed off with a devious smile.

"Sure, whatever," Fox remarked dismissively, turning to leave.

"Hey Fox, I've got an autograph for ya," the rodent smirked, drawing something black out from under his sweatshirt.

Fox barely registered the blaster in the rat's hand before it was being aimed right at his head.


	7. Glamorama, Part II

**-Glamorama (Part II)-**

Some primordial survival instinct in Fox's brain took control, and he launched himself backwards into the wall with a yelp of surprise as a scarlet blaster bolt flared across his nose. The bolt punched into the refresher mirror with a sputter of sparks as Fox slammed into the tiled wall and then leapt towards the gunman. The rat swung the blaster towards Fox just as he grabbed the rodent's wrist and shoved it into his chest, the blaster popping and sending a bolt into the wall. Fox shot his fist into the rat's stomach, stunning him before grabbing his shoulder and yanking him forward into a knee strike to the umbilicus. The rat collapsed to his knees with a gasp and Fox drove his foot into the rodent's ribs, rolling him onto his back as the blaster skittered out of his hands across the floor.

He hopped forward and stomped his foot towards the rat's solar plexus but the rat's pinkish hands snapped onto his foot before it could connect, gripping him by the sole of his foot and the back of his calf. Fox tugged backwards before the rat put him off balance with a shove upward, then he hooked his leg around Fox's back and threw him off to the side. He rolled through the air, crashing into the floor tiles on his side as the rat pounced onto Fox's back, grabbing him around his waist and putting a hand around his neck. The rat's excited breaths growled in Fox's ears, he could smell the pungent odor of the rat's sweat bearing down on him as he struggled to find a foothold even though the rodent was shoving him further into the floor. Fox struggled to his knees, the rodent groaning against him and pushing him further downwards, and he smashed the both of them into one of the refresher stalls. The rat let out a grunt, relenting enough for Fox to plant his feet on the ground and he pushed up against the rat with a shout.

The rat stumbled backwards, still gripping onto Fox's back as Fox shoved him up against the wall, then grabbed the arm wrapped around his waist and swung the rat back around into the stall. Hitting the stall with a thud, the rat bore his large teeth and tore forward, into a hard kick backwards from Fox. Fox darted up to the rat and punched him in the sternum, eliciting a cry of pain from the rat before he grabbed Fox's arm and pulled. He came forward with the rat's pull, yanking his arm away and then smashing his elbow into the rat's face. The rat delivered a weak punch to Fox's ribs, a dull puff of pain that was meaningless amidst all of the adrenaline coursing through Fox's system, then he tackled forward and shoved Fox back against the hand sinks.

His shoes squeaked against the tile floor as the rat pounced and Fox launched himself against his attacker, driving his shoulder into the rodent's chest and his elbow into his stomach. The rat coughed violently, staggering back as Fox leg-swept the rat off his feet, making him fall on his ass with a crashing thud. The rat cried out then whipped around and dove for his blaster on the floor nearby. Without even thinking about reaching for his own gun, Fox jumped forward and scooped the rat's neck up in the crook of his arm, wrenching him backwards as he gagged loudly and then grabbing onto his lower jaw. Fox's other hand dug into the back of the rat's head and he twisted with a grunt, swinging the rat's head to his right shoulder. The rat hollered as if realizing what Fox was trying to do, his eyes swelling frantically as he extended his arm towards the blaster on the floor.

_Break…break_, was the only thought in Fox's head as he twisted the rat's neck, gritting his teeth and remembering the technique that Peppy had shown him once. The rat spasmed and struggled, letting off gagging gasps of breath as he heaved his body against Fox's grip. Summoning one last burst of strength, Fox let out a yell and gave a final heaving twist, hearing a crack of bone as the rat screeched and suddenly went limp.

The sensory details that he'd ignored previously now came flooding back to Fox's attention: The bitter smell of burnt masonry from the still-smoking blaster shots in the wall and mirror, the muffled throbbing of dance music from behind the refresher door, the soreness in Fox's ribs, neck and arms and his own gulping breaths all became much more apparent. Panting for air, Fox looked down at the flaccid body of the rat in his arms. Had he actually broken the rat's neck, or merely knocked him unconscious?

Fox wasn't totally sure. He'd never actually snapped someone's neck before.

After a moment of catching his breath, Fox rolled the rat's body out of his arms and onto the floor, standing up to full height and taking a few steps back. The rat didn't seem to be moving, but Fox still reached into his jacket and wrapped his fingers around the handgrip of his blaster.

The refresher door suddenly flew open, a brown-furred leporid in a tee-shirt, a vest and a brown beret striding in, completely oblivious.

"Hey Arty, you sure that guy you saw was…?" The leporid trailed off as he entered the bathroom, his face going blank as he took in the sight of Fox and the collapsed rodent nearby. The leporid cursed and reached for the blaster pistol tucked into his belt loop, but he was barely able to touch the handgrip before Fox drew his blaster and leveled it between the leporid's eyes.

The rabbit froze, his mouth slightly open as Fox stared him down through his blaster's open sights, his green eyes hard and unfeeling. No one moved, the only audible sound being the throbbing dance music from the club beyond the door. Fox's breathing was steady, his aim steady and flawless. At this range, there was no way he could miss. The leporid remained still, at a loss of what to do.

"If you wanna go…then _go_," Fox ordered quietly, his finger on the trigger, "Right now."

The leporid nodded with a whispered breath, then backed slowly out of the refresher and disappeared.

Fox breathed outward through his mouth, letting his blaster fall to his side and blinking as he turned to face the rat's body once again. He had less than a second to observe the rat fully conscious and grasping the handgrip of his blaster from the floor, swinging it to bear at Fox with a guttural yell. Fox roared in panic as he dodged, twisting his body and swiftly bringing his pistol up and pulling the trigger. Both blasters let off near simultaneous pops, one crimson blaster bolt flashing past Fox's chest as another lanced into the rodent's face. The rat's arms dropped and released the blaster with a clatter as the rodent's head fell limply to the floor, a scorched hole above his left eye as well as in the wall behind him.

Fox breathed a sigh of relief for the second time in the past few moments, quickly shoving his blaster into the holster in his jacket. He looked back at the rat, collapsed and dead as a doornail on the refresher floor. It had been a while since Fox had killed someone face to face. It was so different from the disconnected violence of a starship dogfight, so much more visceral and somehow more real. He felt dirty, even though it had been totally necessary for his survival.

It was hard to look at the fallen, quiet corpse of his enemy and feel like a hero.

Fox turned away from the rat's corpse and opened the refresher door, walking back out into the blasting club music and flashing lights while club goers danced as if nothing had happened. The eyes of the Anubis statue continued to blaze hot pink as Candice Compton's clear voice rose to an eerie crescendo, crooning, _"Release me from this curse I'm in, tryin to maintain but I'm strug-glin', if ya' can't go-o-o-o, think I'm gonna ah-ah-ah-ahhhh…"_

Fox worked his way around the dance floor as the various clubbers grinded and grooved together, keeping an eye out for the leporid with the blaster in case he might've changed his mind about leaving. His right arm was on a hair-trigger to dive into his jacket and draw his blaster as the music continued to thump and shake the entire club surface, and he cautiously made his way to the stairs leading up to the seating area where Falco waited for him.

As Fox once again rejoined the tangled masses going to and fro amongst the tables, he heard a familiar voice just under the music call, "Foxie!"

Fox turned to his left to behold Falco prancing forward, his left arm around the shoulders of a red-plumed female avian in a white bustier and tight black pants, his right arm around a female otter in a short-fitting aquamarine dress. Both females were grinning up at Falco and out at the rest of the club, one hand each around Falco's back and on their own hips as if to show off their latest find. Fox sniffed with irritation as Falco and the girls came up to him.

"Hey, buddy, ya' feelin' betta?" Falco inquired with traces of genuine concern, the fleshy corners of his beak upturned in a full-of-himself smirk.

"I'm fine, I told you," Fox answered coldly, his eyes on Falco alone.

"Good ta' hear. Thought I'd find somethin' ta' cheer ya' up," Falco proposed, gesturing at both of the females with his beak, "This is Cindy, an' this is, uh…"

"Katie," the female enhydra filled in flatly.

"That's right! This is Katie. And _these _are their four friends!" Falco announced, his blue-feathered hands suddenly slipping off of the girls' shoulders and tickling their cleavage with his fingers. The females squealed in surprised laughter, doubling over slightly to the point that Falco had to step forward to keep his balance. Fox pursed his lips slightly, the flashback forgotten in the face of the near-death confrontation he'd just had in the refresher. Falco was not making things easier.

Falco's hands reverted back to the girls' shoulders and he informed the female avian, "See, I told ya' I had a guy for Katie."

Katie suddenly slipped out from under Falco's arm and stepped closer to Fox, looking into his eyes with a curious smile.

"So…" she began coyly, "Falco says you're a pilot too? That's really cool…"

Fox ignored her and looked at Falco disapprovingly, informing him, "They definitely weren't kidding when they said this place would be crawling with guys looking for us and Kursed."

"Whaddaya mean?" Falco inquired as he gazed into Cindy's brown eyes, his hand gracefully sliding down her back towards her tail feathers.

"I just _killed _one of them in the refresher," Fox answered bluntly.

"_What?_" Falco squawked, his head whipping around to face Fox. Both of the girls looked at the two of them with baffled, barely comprehending eyes. The scarlet feathers on Cindy's head ruffled faintly as she stared at Fox.

"Are you, like, _serious_?" Katie demanded with disbelief.

"We need to find Kursed and get the hell out of here," Fox ordered, "Lose the bimbos."

"Uh, girls listen, ah…" Falco stammered as Fox spied a chronograph at the coat-check booth near the door, "We gotta split. We're supposed ta' meet someone else for…stuff. Ya' understand, right? Sorry. Turns out ya' can't chill with us."

The chronograph showed about fourteen minutes past midnight. Sixteen minutes to go before Kursed was supposed to meet them.

The girls looked at the both of them with confusion and outrage as Fox led Falco towards the dance floor.

"How are we supposed ta' find Kursed?" Falco interrogated over the thumping music, "We don't know what she looks like!"

"She's supposed to know us, remember?" Fox retorted, his eyes darting around the crowded club, looking for a potential threat. It struck him with a slight chill that practically anyone in the club could be Kursed. And anyone else could be another bounty hunter or assassin.

"Just keep walking around and see if someone recognizes you," Fox suggested.

"Oh, like someone recognized _you_? What happened in there? Someone just walked in an' started shootin'?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened! His body's still in there; I doubt its at room temperature yet."  
"Fuckin' hell Fox, what if someone doesn't wait till we're alone?"

"Just try to stay around people. Don't give anyone a clear shot. If you recognize anyone from the briefing, try to avoid them, but if they come after you just start shooting. That'll get Kursed's attention. Go, we'll cover more of the club if we split up. Take the seating area. I'll take the dance floor," Fox instructed, stepping down the first step towards the dance floor.

Falco's hard blue eyes darted around the crowded club, a small amount of anxiety apparent in his face. Eventually the avian nodded, unzipping his jacket and keeping his right hand ready to dive in and draw his blaster at any moment.

Fox stepped back out onto the dance floor, scanning the hundreds of people in the area and realizing with frustration that he didn't really know who to look for. The catch was that someone else was probably looking for him. He journeyed cautiously into the dancing crowds.

* * *

"Ya' _sure_ it was him?" Wolf reviewed, a clawed finger to his implant, the comlink active.

"Positive," Leon came back, "He walked right _by _me. I don't think he recognized me; he looked sick or something. I think I saw Arty LaMonica follow him into the refresher, but I can't be sure."

"Oh, shit," Panther remarked, "I see Lombardi right now. He's up here in the seating area. I dunno how I missed him."

"Has he seen ya'?" Wolf demanded, gazing into the thick crowds on the dance floor, his empty glass of water sitting behind him on the bar.

"I don't think so," Panther replied.

"Then stay outta' sight," Wolf ordered, "Nobody do _shit _unless I say."

This had totally changed the game.

If McCloud was here, there was no doubt, regardless of how unlikely it was, that Kursed and Krystal were the same person. Whether she'd split off from the team to go solo or the whole Kursed thing was just some big operation by McCloud, it didn't matter. Right now, StarFox had the edge. The only thing that Wolf maybe had going for him was the possibility that McCloud wasn't expecting StarWolf's involvement in this whole thing.

Wolf's gaze flew around the club, looking for a sign of either the blue-furred vixen or of Fox McCloud himself. His eye suddenly locked on a vulpine wearing a black tee-shirt and a brown jacket, slowly coming down the set of stairs across the dance floor. He recognized the orange-red fur and the measured gait instantly. Wolf's heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly felt his blood rush through his system.

The last time he saw Fox McCloud, Wolf nearly killed him.

It was during that whole ordeal on the forsaken planet of Temple that Wolf came to appreciate his rival in a radically new way. There was something about having McCloud out there, the one enemy that could always keep him on his toes, that was so much more precious than the pleasure that would come from killing him. Wolf could only _kill _McCloud once. On the other hand, he could _fight _McCloud for the rest of his life.

He supposed that one day they might end up killing each other. That was only to be expected. But Wolf saw no reason to actively bring about that day, especially when the very sight of Fox could set Wolf's teeth on edge.

From the moment he spotted McCloud, Wolf knew instantly what to do. He had the element of surprise on his hands. Also on his side was the fact that, of all the gun-toting killers hiding in the club, all of them were looking for Fox and Kursed instead of Wolf. He could use that to his advantage.

"I got 'im," Wolf growled over the comlink, sliding off of his barstool.

"What do we do, Wolf?" Leon inquired.

"Wait for my signal," he instructed, "You an' Panther can go after Lombardi if ya' want. Try ta' keep watch for Kursed. We can be pretty sure it's Krystal. Leave McCloud ta' me. An' watch yourselves, things are gonna get ugly."

"I'm not sure a shooting war is the best idea," Panther remarked hesitantly, "There's a _lot _more people in here with guns than just _McCloud_. On top of that, the police could get here in a matter of moments."

"Do what ya' want," Wolf grinned, "I'm gonna have fun with this thing."

* * *

"Fox? Fox, what's going on?" Slippy demanded through Fox's earpiece.

As Fox continued to scan the dance floor cautiously, he put a finger to his earpiece and called, "Just keep the car ready and stay out there. Things might get intense."

"Fox, just let me come in and help!" Slippy responded.

"No, just stay out there!" Fox rejected, "I can't argue about this now."

As he took his hand away from the earpiece, the throbbing dance music suddenly stopped. Like they were waking up from an incredibly good dream, the hordes of club goers looked up in the air and let out almost simultaneous groans of disappointment.

"This next song's dedicated to a real _special_ person out there," a familiar, gravelly voice snarled menacingly through the sound system, "He's here ta' meet a lucky lady that _everyone_ wants a piece of."

Fox's brow furrowed, then he froze in astonishment as he recognized the voice. His eyes drifted over to the DJ booth, where a pointy-eared silhouette stood holding the DJ at gunpoint. Where the figure's left eye should've been, Fox could see the pale blue glow of a cybernetic implant.

"Shit," Fox hissed, yanking his blaster out of the holster. In the midst of the stunned crowd of dancers, no one seemed to notice Fox's gun.

A spotlight suddenly came to life on the ceiling, sweeping over the herds of people on the dance floor and shining right on Fox. As he squinted his eyes in the bright light, Fox could just make out the eyes of practically everyone in the now deathly-quiet club on him.

"His name's Fox McCloud, an' if anyone in tha' house tonight wants ta' have a word with _Kursed_, I suggest you talk ta' him," Wolf O'Donnell's voice rang out through the sound system.

Fox's blood suddenly ran cold and he stepped out of the spotlight, looking around the crowds. Amongst the throngs of people looking at him in an utterly confused manner, there were several faces regarding him with hard looks of malevolent determination. Fox was paralyzed, no solution whatsoever occurring to him.

"Everyone else enjoy tha' party," Wolf growled, "It's about ta' get a little noisier."

The spotlight vanished and a hard industrial dance rock song blasted through the speakers, and Fox suddenly became aware of several figures fighting their way through the crowd towards him. There was no time to consider how Wolf could've gotten involved in this whole thing, no time to do anything but simply react.

A black feathered avian in a suit forced his way between two dancing canines, coming up to Fox with a thirty-centimeter vibroknife in his wing-like hand. Fox leapt forward across the dance floor, closing the distance and smashing his heel into the avian's shin as the avian raised his vibroblade. A loud cracking noise coincided with the avian's screams of pain as his fibula snapped under the force of the kick, bringing the avian to his knees. A number of people surrounding the two began to shout and move away, but most of the dancers on the floor didn't even notice as Fox bashed his elbow into the avian's beak and pounded the heel of his palm into his upper chest, sending the avian into the dance floor with blood oozing from his nostrils.

A popping blaster shot rang out and a crimson bolt whizzed past Fox's shoulder and into the hip of a retreating female equine, who fell to the floor with a shout. The club erupted into screams of panic, almost drowning out the music as people all over the dance floor proceeded to madly rush towards the seating area and the door beyond. Fox was nearly taken off his feet by a male feline and a female chameleon that bumped into him in their flight away from the dance floor.

The club was no longer a vibrant den of dancing and excess, it was now a stampeding fight for survival as people shoved and pushed past in a gush towards the exit. Fox shoved away a badger with blonde hair extensions just in time to see a short-statured ram in a blast-vest come through the rushing masses and take aim at him through gaps in the fleeing crowd, the barrel of his blaster pistol still smoking.

Fox crouched down instinctively; hearing another blaster shot and watching another innocent bystander crumple to the ground with a scream. There was a stunned, split-second moment of disgust as Fox realized that he'd taken cover behind people as shields, even though there was no other cover to speak of and the crowds were so thick that it was nearly impossible _not _to hit a bystander.

A blaster bolt erupted forth from the crowd, dashing over everyone's heads and plowing into the wall, eliciting even more frantic screams. Fox tried to see the ram through the crowds of rushing people, looking left and right through the sea of bodies, unable to recognize the figure.

The ram suddenly appeared out of the corner of his eye, training his blaster on Fox.

Fox whipped around, raising his gun just as a pair of blue blaster bolts consecutively plowed one after the other into the ram's side, throwing him off his feet. Fox looked in the direction of where the blaster bolts had come to see Falco, blaster in hand standing up on the edge of the raised seating level, giving a brief nod in his direction.

A large amphibian in a blue jacket appeared behind Falco, taking aim with a shortened blaster carbine. Fox brought up his blaster and pulled the trigger, firing three times. Two shots flashed over the amphibian's head, the other seared into his left shoulder and threw him into a table. Falco looked back in the direction of the amphibian assassin and suddenly dove to the side, disappearing as dozens of blaster shots erupted from the seating area, flashing over the heads of everyone on the dance floor.

Fox once again directed his attention to the ram, who was getting to his knees and examining the singed but functional blast-vest. Fox sent him back into the floor with a crimson blaster shot from his gun, then put another round in his head to ensure that he stayed down.

Fox went low and proceeded to make his way through the crowds, now thinning out as people began to jam into the far side of the dance floor.

His head darting in every direction for a new threat, Fox suddenly perceived a large brown blur flying out of the DJ booth. A brown duster was thrown into the air by the blur, fluttering to the dance floor in a heap as the blur landed on the ground just a few meters away from Fox. It solidified into Wolf O'Donnell, clad in his heavy-looking shoulder plates and blaster-resistant body armor as his rough grey tail swished through the air behind him.

They locked eyes for just a brief moment, taking in each other, a vaguely electrical connection forming between the two.

"You poisoned me and tried to kill me!" Fox barked out in the first words that came to mind.

"Yeah, I hate you. Since when did that come as a surprise?" Wolf called back, launching himself forward with a lupine snarl.

Fox raised his gun as Wolf came within a meter of him, firing off a crimson shot that sparked into Wolf's shoulder plate, harmlessly absorbed by the narcium armor. Wolf slapped the blaster out of McCloud's hands, slugging him in the chest and then swiping a clawed hand into his side. Fox dodged Wolf's claws and sent a punch towards his face, which Wolf blocked with a gauntleted left forearm. Wolf slid forward, swinging a knife-hand strike into his shoulder that Fox caught by the wrist, holding Wolf's arm to dislocate it at the elbow with his other hand. The lupine swung his free hand into Fox's chest, tearing through the black tee-shirt and into his flesh, yanking his arm away and driving his shoulder into Fox. He let out a gasp of shock as he fell backwards into the club bar, crashing into the glowing neon blue furnishings but also getting his balance back much faster than Wolf counted on.

Fox lashed out in a broad kick to Wolf's side, connecting with a hit that stunned the lupine and knocked him off balance. Fox pounded the air in front of Wolf with three successive kicks, driving Wolf further away and creating enough space for Fox to hop to the other foot and snap a roundhouse kick up to Wolf's head. Wolf blocked the kick with a frantic elbow, giving off a feral roar before grabbing the vulpine's extended leg and shoving upward, throwing his enemy off balance. As Fox fell backwards into the bar, Wolf dove into him and bashed his fist into Fox's lower back, nailing him with a kidney punch that sent a shockwave of agony up the StarFox leader's spine. Fox yelled and smashed the flat of his palm into Wolf's ear, pulling back and plowing his fist into the lupine's nose.

Wolf stumbled backwards with a stunned yip, Fox finally regaining his balance and grabbing a nearby barstool by the bottom of its legs. He came forward, cocking the barstool over his shoulder and swinging with all his might just as Wolf ducked down, the stool sweeping harmlessly over his back. Fox let the stool fly out of his hands and pulled back his arm, and Wolf came up and shot his knuckles into Fox's muzzle. Fox's head whiplashed backwards, the warm rush of blood flooding into his mouth as he crashed against the bar once again.

A murderous grin on his face, Wolf drew his blaster, bringing it to bear on Fox and firing a split-second after Fox threw himself over the bar, a thick plasma bolt tearing into the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar. Bottles shattered into thousands of pieces, raining down on Fox with sprinkles of liberated alcohol. Fox leapt to his feet, keeping low and racing down the length of the bar as Wolf fired another shot, blowing apart several more bottles and setting the alcohol within on fire. Fox snatched a full bottle of Baskerville Vodka from the shelves and flung it over the bar at Wolf, who blasted it apart in midair with a single shot. As the vodka dispersed in a fine mist, Fox threw another bottle in Wolf's direction, Wolf dodging to the side as the bottle clattered loudly to the floor.

The vulpine hurdled over the bar and tore towards Wolf, who shoved his blaster back into its holster and dashed up to Fox. The StarFox leader blocked a solid punch with his forearm, keeping it up as a guard only for Wolf to slash into it with a clawed hand, tearing through Fox's jacket and into the flesh beneath. He cried out as blood began to ooze from the cuts in his arm, chopping Wolf in the neck with the side of his right hand. Gagging raggedly, Wolf grabbed a nearby golden retriever that had been trying to escape and threw him into Fox, stepping backwards as Fox struggled to regain balance and hold up the teenage retriever. Fox quickly shoved the retriever away just as Wolf drew his blaster once again and aimed.

The twang of a blaster shot was heard and Wolf was thrown forward with a yell, plowing into the ground face-first with a scorch mark on the back of his blast-vest. Behind him, a smoking blaster carbine in his reptilian hands, was a crocodilian in brown fatigues that Fox recognized as Joseph Suchos. The crocodile took aim at Fox with his carbine, popping off a green bolt as Fox dodged to the right, spotting his EE-40 blaster mere meters away. He rolled forward across the floor, a verdant blaster bolt tearing into the floor space that he'd occupied moments previous, coming back up within reach of his blaster and scooping it off the polished wood. He dove to the side as Joseph Suchos let off another shot that whizzed past his knee and into a barstool. The StarFox leader gave off a wild crimson blaster shot that grazed over Joseph's shoulder, the crocodilian giving off a howl of pain. Fox strafed over to Wolf's supine form, taking aim and quickly firing two scarlet bolts into Joseph's chest and one into his head, and the crocodilian promptly crumpled limply to the floor.

Wolf gave a hurt growl as he came up to his knees, mentally thanking his blast-vest for doing its job. Just as Fox began to point his blaster point-blank at Wolf's head, the lupine quickly grabbed the bottle that Fox had thrown at him in his right hand and shoved Fox to the ground with his left. Fox hit the dance floor on his hip, a surge of pain shooting up him as a green blaster bolt flashed over his head. Fox looked over his shoulder to see Waylon Suchos behind him, a similar blaster carbine to his brother's in his claws, having just fired a shot intended for Fox's back.

Wolf pitched the liquor bottle across the room into Waylon's face, where it struck him on the snout and shattered with a sloshing crackle.

Waylon fell backwards, screaming and blinded from the alcohol in his eyes, firing wildly into the ceiling with his carbine. Wolf snatched his blaster out of the holster and shot off a glob of bright green plasma that flashed between two fleeing rodents and seared into Waylon's hip with a burst of lime-colored flames. Waylon fell backwards onto the ground, Wolf's shot igniting the alcohol all over his face and engulfing everything above his chest in flames. The crocodilian's screams shook the walls of the club as he flailed on the floor, desperately trying to put out the fire on his face. Before he could even try, Wolf fired a shot into Waylon's chest that silenced the reptile's screams for good.

Fox quickly got to his feet and gave Wolf an odd, confused look. Amidst all the chaos, Fox wondered if Wolf realized that he'd just saved Fox's life. Wolf's only response was a brief wink of his lavender eye and a grin of lupine teeth.

Then before Fox could even respond, Wolf threw an iron punch right between his eyes. An explosion of pain erupted in his face as Fox fell backward, briefly blinded but still thankfully holding onto his blaster. As his vision cleared, Fox saw that Wolf was still holding his blaster as well, and aiming it directly at him. He leapt to the right as a green plasma bolt tore through the air by his arm, blasting apart a section of the bar.

From the depths of the club there suddenly erupted a crass, enraged voice that bellowed, "YOU SKYWOG BASTARDS! I'LL EAT YOU! I'LL _FUCKING _EAT YOU!"

Before Wolf could take another shot, the hulking green mass of a three-meter tall crocodilian tore through the packed herd of people struggling to escape the dance floor, throwing several to the ground and causing dozens more to fall against each other like Fortunan dominoes. Wolf spun around to behold the huge charging figure of Edgar Suchos racing towards the both of them. The two rivals fired simultaneously at the monstrous figure, a crimson blaster bolt and an emerald plasma bolt tearing into Edgar's hide, who shrugged off the blasts with little more than a screech of fury. His reptilian tail sweeping violently behind him, Edgar's mammoth hand swept into Wolf's chest, tossing him clear through the air and slamming the StarWolf leader into a nearby wall.

Wolf slid down the wall and hit the ground, his knees buckling under him in shock as Edgar Suchos bounded towards him with a reptilian hiss. The lupine raised his blaster with a snarl of canine teeth, firing a shot into Edgar's exposed upper chest. The plasma bolt plowed into Edgar's breast with a burst of green fire, sending the enormous crocodile stumbling backwards, howling demonically. Wolf barely had the time to take off into the scrambling crowds of people before Edgar recovered and roared after him again, and soon the lupine disappeared into the herds of people. Edgar continued to roar and curse as he chased Wolf into the screaming crowds, his three-meter form only vaguely going out of sight as he single-mindedly waded through the masses.

Fox stood there weakly as the two vanished into the multitudes, spitting a mouthful of blood out of his mouth from where Wolf had punched him. The side of his mouth, indeed all of Fox's injuries from Wolf began to bitterly sting, though he had barely any time to tend to his wounds in this hellish clusterfuck. People continued to scatter and run about the club, even though industrial dance music continued to blast out of the speakers in earsplitting fashion, colored lights dancing around the club as if everything was still a party.

Amidst the rushing crowds, a single ape in a tight-fitting dark green sweater and black fatigue trousers was staring at Fox, shifting through the gaggles of people towards him. Fox raised his blaster just as the ape rushed through the crowd, a heavy blaster pistol in his hand. Fox sprinted off to the side, firing a crimson bolt as the ape shot one of his own at the StarFox leader, both shots missing their marks. The ape fired two more shots which tore into the wall behind Fox, then grabbed a screaming female ram and held her by the waist out in front of him, using the aries for a living shield as he stretched his gun-toting right arm over her shoulder.

"Fuck!" Fox spat, unable to fire without risking the female's life, and he began a mad dash across the wooden dance floor towards the killer primate and his hostage. The ape fired one, then another, then another shot at Fox as he twisted and strafed around, praying he wouldn't be hit as the she-ram wailed in panic. The female struggled against the ape, throwing his aim off as he fired a shot that likely would've hit Fox in the stomach had it impacted.

Fox leapt ahead within meters of the ape and hostage, grabbing the she-ram's arm and tugging her back towards him, throwing the ape off balance. The ape grunted and released the ram, bringing his blaster into Fox's face. Fox slapped the pistol away and proceeded to shove his gun into the ape's chest, only to have the ape grab Fox's wrist and smash the handgrip of his blaster into Fox's forearm. Fox cried out and panickedly head butted the ape in the chest, and he stumbled backwards with a grunt. Fox raised his blaster again just as the ape brought his blaster back up, and Fox grabbed the ape's wrist and yanked him forward into a knee-strike to the groin. The ape bellowed hoarsely, the skin of his scarred muzzle stretching over his simian teeth as he dropped his blaster to the floor. As Fox began to bring the blaster back up into his enemy's chest, the ape dove into him with a primal yell, tackling him to the ground and straddling his chest.

Fox tried to raise his blaster up to the ape's face, only to have the ape force his arm back down onto the floor and hold it down with his knee. The vulpine's legs kicked madly through the air, fighting against the ape in vain as he wrapped his gnarled fingers around Fox's throat. Fox began to gag and cough instantly as the ape pressed his thumbs into his windpipe, compressing his neck violently and forcing blood to rush into Fox's head. His feet continued to kick into the air, now more unconscious than before, strangled gasps erupting from his jaws as he felt pressure begin to build in his head. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of his sockets, his brain swelling up against the inside of his skull.

"Die," the ape hissed through bared teeth as he pushed his thumbs further into Fox's trachea. Though Fox twisted his chest and kicked his legs as much as he could, nothing could dislodge the murderous primate straddled on top of him. It began to painfully hurt to breathe, even though his lungs cried for air, and red dots began to develop within Fox's vision. Fox heaved out one final breath before it became impossible to take in more air, the only sound he was able to produce being pitiful ragged bleats of protest. As the corners of his view began to go black, Fox realized that for all the ways for his life to end, this way seemed particularly pathetic and random.

The ape's grip suddenly loosened and he screamed in the split second before his head abruptly exploded in a splash of blood.

It was like a balloon filled with warm mud suddenly popping, the entire ape's cranium just blew apart in a shower of flesh, bone and red, spattering onto the floor all around and splashing hotly onto Fox's clothes and fur. Fox blinked in shock as well as from the mist of disintegrated brain matter wafting through the air, opening his eyes to see the ape still straddled atop him, minus his head. In its place was a blood-drenched stick of a spinal column along with what could've been a part of his lower jaw, while the entire upper chest of his sweater was stained red with his own fluids. Fox hurriedly shoved the headless body off of him, watching it limply thump to the side as the stump of a neck continued to squirt red in a sputtering fountain all over the wooden dance floor. As Fox sat up, disoriented, he beheld with horror what only could've been the ape's disembodied ear lying on the floor near his hand. He came to his feet, staring at the splash of blood and scattered bits of the ape's head all around him, and a part of him in the back of his mind realized that the industrial dance music had promptly ended.

He looked up to the balcony of the terraced second level of the club, where he beheld a figure holding a Cygnet MX-1 rifle over the balcony railing. Recognizable by the almost phallic-shaped bulb at the end of the barrel, the MX-1 had been designed by Cygnet for the CSB during the Lylat War for covert assassination and sabotage, utilizing invisible focused microwaves to short-circuit electronic equipment from a distance or lethally superheat a living being's flesh to an explosive degree.

As a new song erupted from the club's sound system, however, it wasn't the rifle that got Fox's attention but the female behind it. Clad in a form-fitting black bodysuit with fingerless brown leather gloves that covered her forearms was an athletic-looking vixen with distinctly powder blue fur and clear cyan eyes that burned like stars.

Fox's bottom jaw dropped open in disbelief as the blue vixen lowered her rifle, stepping onto the railing of the balcony and leaping down onto the dance floor below as the pouty voice of Lindsay Portman breathed through the sound system, _"It's been a while. I know I shouldn't have kept you waiting…But I'm here now." _

The vixen's booted feet slammed into the dance floor with a loud thud in front of him, and she gazed at Fox coolly, her eyes searing into him as if she could see right through Fox.

"Hello, baby," Krystal sneered venomously, before smashing someone's face with the butt of her gun.

* * *

This chapter was so fun for me, not just for the fight scenes but for the two female characters that make an appearance. I love my catty little bitch version of Fara; if there's ever a sequel to this story she'll have a pretty large role. And, of course, Krystal finally makes her overdue appearance. I think you guys'll like my take on her character, I'm trying to go against the Mary-Sue stereotypes that make so many people hate her. You might still hate her, but hopefully in the same way that you lovingly hate Wolf. See you guys next time; this story is getting intense!


	8. Bad Girls Wear Blue

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It took a while to get this chapter ironed out. Krystal's a rather hard character to write the way I want her, especially in this chapter. But I think I've got her good. She really blossoms later on, though. I think I'm giving up on splitting long chapters up for you guys, it proved to be more trouble than it's worth. From now on, I'll only do it if i seriously think it NEEDS to be split up, otherwise I'll let you enjoy the long chapters I've worked on so hard for you. Your song selections for this chapter are:

Break the Ice by Britney Spears (portrayed in the story as a song by Lindsay Portman)

Rock Your Body by Justin Timberlake (portrayed humorously in the story as a song by Justin Jackson)

As one final note, this chapter in particular REALLY earns that R-rating I told you about. I warned you before that this story was going to be knee-deep in violence, profanity, drug use and sex. Well you get that last one in this chapter. For those of you people who prefer to skip the gratuitous shagging, when you get uncomfortable, scroll down until you see the #(!Line* * * * line!)#, which I thoughtfully put at the end of the dirty parts for those of you whose mommies would disapprove. Otherwise, read, review, and enjoy this new turn that the story is taking.

* * *

**-Bad Girls Wear Blue-**

Wolf had never been to Sauria, otherwise known as Dinosaur Planet, however he'd seen holo-footage and images of the exotic world and its inhabitants. He was personally impressed by the SharpClaw and RedEye tribes, concluding that they were the most feared species on the planet due to the fact that both were little more than a set of powerful jaws with legs.

This was the thought going through the back of his mind while he ran from Edgar Suchos, three meters of bulging muscle and dagger-like teeth, who looked less to Wolf like the typical crocodilian and more like a fucking_ dinosaur_.

As people screamed in terror, fighting for access to the set of steps leading to the seating area of Club Glamorama, Wolf pushed and kicked his way through the crowds to escape the monstrous juggernaut mere meters behind him.

"I'M GONNA EAT YOU ALIVE!" Edgar bellowed, shaking the club walls themselves as he waded through the crowds, knocking people down all around him with his mammoth arms and tail.

There was no way to get up to the seating area; there were far too many people crowded around the steps and Edgar would reach Wolf before he could make it through; he could hear the huge bastard's hissing breaths right behind him even as the music continued to blare and the people continued to scream. Thinking fast, Wolf leapt into the air, smashing his boot into an escaping Labrador's shoulder and using it to propel himself up to the railing of the raised seating area. The palms of Wolf's hands slapped onto the rail, his feet dangling in the air at shoulder-level of the people on the dance floor, and he began to pull himself up over the rail with a grunt and grit of his teeth. A guttural shriek was all that Wolf heard before a green-scaled hand the size of a dinner plate clamped around his left foot and viciously jerked.

His leg felt like it was being ripped off at the knee, releasing a yell of pain from Wolf's muzzle, his shoulders blasted with fire as he held onto the rail despite the immense force. He looked over his shoulder and saw the broad-shouldered crocodilian dragging him back down with one heavily-sinewy arm, his yellow eyes shining with rage. Wolf tugged his foot back, only to have Edgar give a jarring pull that nearly dislodged Wolf's grip. The crocodilian waded through the crowd several steps more as people began to scatter around him, his jaws cranking open and revealing a mouth of needled teeth. Wolf pulled his right foot out of the way just in time to dodge Edgar's jaws as they snapped through the air. Edgar's head came back again, his mouth opening once more before lunging to clamp down on Wolf's boot. Wolf was ready this time, kicking his heel into Edgar's nose and sending the croc's chin into his chest as the crocodilian cried out in surprise. Wolf pulled his right foot back, taking his first opportunity and stomping into Edgar's eye with all of his strength.

Edgar let out a squeal and staggered backwards, releasing Wolf's foot as his hands flew to cover his eyes. The soles of his boots scraping into the walls for grip, Wolf blindly threw himself over the railing and landed in a heap on the black carpets of the club's seating area.

Tables and chairs had been thrown to the side as people fled or attempted to use them for cover, the black carpets littered with several bodies of assassins and innocent bystanders as a constant rush of patrons tore for the exit. As Wolf oriented himself, he beheld a familiar blue avian in a red leather jacket taking cover behind an upturned table no more than half a meter from where he'd landed, blaster in hand with his back turned to Wolf.

Falco Lombardi peeked around the table and thrust his arm over the rim, firing off a blue blaster beam at an unseen assailant before ducking for cover back behind the table. The avian glanced over his shoulder and he saw Wolf, Falco's tough blue eyes suddenly tapering with enmity. The StarFox pilot leveled his blaster at Wolf's chest before he could reach for his holster.

The looming form of Edgar Suchos suddenly popped up over the railing, dragging himself up to the two of them and unleashing a screeching howl from his reptilian jaws.

"Holy _shit_!" Falco cursed, beak flying open in alarm as he threw himself into the table and whipped his blaster up at Edgar's chest.

Wolf rolled his body away from the railing and two blue particle beams leapt from the end of Falco's blaster, sizzling into Edgar's shoulder as he roared and swiped a bulging arm over the railing. Falco ducked to the floor as Edgar's claws whooshed overhead, coming down practically face to face with Wolf. Without a word the avian and the lupine sat up and thrust their blasters in the direction of Edgar Suchos' torso, popping off an energy blast from their respective guns that pounded into the crocodile's armored stomach. Edgar yowled and slipped off the railing, falling down to the dance floor and lashing out with a backhand swipe of his thick right arm. Wolf threw himself back into the carpet as Edgar's hand plowed into Falco's upper body, flinging the avian several feet through the air like a rag doll. Lombardi crashed into a still-standing set of tables and chairs, his legs flying wildly as he finally came to rest in a tangled mess. As Edgar Suchos struggled to climb back up the railing, Wolf leapt to his feet and took off around the table, barely noticing as a green blaster bolt flashed by his shoulder.

"WOLF!" Leon's distinctly high, nasally voice resonated, and Wolf's head darted in the direction of the sound to see Leon and Panther, blasters drawn, peeking out from behind another overturned table. Leon had ditched his overcoat to reveal his sleek, form-fitting black stealth suit, while Panther's once-flawless getup was now wrinkled and slightly damp with sweat.

"Where's Lombardi?" Panther inquired, standing up at full height, "We were just shooting at-"

"No time, we gotta move!" Wolf snapped, looking back to where Lombardi had been thrown.

The avian's legs were not moving, nor was any other part of his body showing visible signs of activity. Wolf didn't have time to find out whether Lombardi was alive or not; they had much bigger things on their plate at the moment.

"What's going on?" Leon demanded, his mouth slightly open as his yellow eyes surveyed the absolute chaos whirling around them.

Before Wolf could answer, a hissing roar shook the walls of the club and evoked smaller screams of terror from the fleeing club goers as Edgar Suchos climbed back over the railing up to the seating area. Without further debate the StarWolf Team took off across the black carpets, tearing their way through the crowds as the baying monster swung his feet over the railing and rampaged after them. Out of the corner of his implant, Wolf spotted a staircase up against the wall of the seating area and he quickly darted to the side and began to rush up the steps with Panther and Leon following close behind. They came to the dark, empty second level seating area overlooking the dance floor, the tables all in neat and orderly fashion as if the madness downstairs hadn't even occured.

The StarWolf Team turned back and stared at the staircase, backing away into the seating area and leveling their blasters at the top of the stairs, prepared to blast anything that came up after them. Though they could hear the loud stomps of the heavy crocodilian and his hissing cries below, nothing climbed up the stairs, and Wolf suddenly realized that the heavy industrial music had stopped playing, plunging the club into a relative period of silence aside from the sounds of yelling patrons below and their own heavy breathing next to each other.

"Did we lose him?" Panther whispered under his breath, still aiming his chromed 23-E pistol at the top of the staircase.

"We're gonna stay up here for a sec," Wolf panted, feeling the thick grey fur on the back of his neck prickle, "Maybe he'll leave."

"The cops are going to be here _any_ moment," Leon hissed as he scanned the shadows around them.

"Least they're not blaster-proof," Wolf muttered, his aim unwavering from the stairs. A part of him felt like a coward for hiding instead of staying to fight Edgar Suchos, but the logical part of his brain had won out for once in the face of the odds. Though Wolf prided himself on his ability to fight, he knew when he was in a losing situation. There were too many variables, hell, too many _enemies_, to take on something like Edgar Suchos right now. After all, there was still McCloud to worry about somewhere, along with whenever the police showed up.

"_It's been a while. I know I shouldn't have kept you waiting…But I'm here now," _Lindsay Portman's recorded voice breathed forth from the sound system, and Wolf cautiously looked over his shoulder towards the balcony at the other end of the seating area, where he could've sworn he saw a figure disappearing off of the edge, almost as if they'd jumped off.

Wolf directed his attention back to the top of the stairs, trying to think of what their next move would be. Despite the fact Edgar Suchos appeared to have left the club, the screams of almost everyone else still filled the building, drowning out the occasional sound of blaster fire. The club was still thick with threats and enemies, and the cops were probably on their way on top of all that. Wolf flexed his free hand and drummed his toes anxiously inside of his boot.

It was going to be a challenge getting out of this nightmare.

* * *

"Hello, baby," she had said to him, coldly and with a sneer, as if she wasn't at all surprised to see him after more than a year of separation.

Krystal stood before Fox, clad in fingerless brown leather gauntlets and a tight black armorweave body suit with diamond-shaped cuts in the shoulders that exposed her deltoids, holding her lethal Cygnet MX-1 rifle confidently in her hands, no longer an illusion, no longer a hallucination. A thick belt around her waist held the holsters for two ArmsCor DC-15 heavy blasters at each side along with a sheathed combat knife, while a scabbard strapped across her back appeared to hold an extendable staff of some sort.

From the way that the armorweave tightly wrapped around her figure, Fox could tell that she'd put on some muscle; her slim body had become noticeably more athletic. Gone were the diadem and headband she used to wear, and all that remained of her necklace was the wedge-shaped turquoise gem, affixed to a black leather choker around her neck. The clearest difference Fox could see about Krystal were her eyes: Those big, almond-shaped cyan eyes of hers, once so soft and innocent, now had the frigid, angular hardness of a steel blade. They were slightly sunken with dark circles underneath them, as if she hadn't slept in a year.

Fox solidified before her, his mouth dry and empty of words, barely able to think or process how it was possible to have her suddenly appear when he least expected it. He thought he would've been ecstatic, bursting with apologies and promises and holding her in his arms the moment he saw her face. Instead, Fox was awed by the sight of this unnerving female that seemed so different from the quiet, naïve and passionate girl he'd lost.

"_I know it's been a while but I'm glad you came, and I've been thinkin' about how you say my name; you got my body spinnin' like a hur-ric-cane, and it feels like you got me goin' insane!" _Lindsay Portman's voice carried throughout the club as three figures emerged from the crowds, charging towards Krystal. Fox raised his arm and opened his mouth to shout a warning, and a frenzied grin appeared on Krystal's face as she whirled around to meet the orange tabby, the white equine and the brown leporid that Fox had encountered in the refresher bearing down on her.

The music built up to a synthesized electropop beat at the exact moment that Krystal stepped forward and smashed the butt of her rifle into the tabby's face, then spun into a roundhouse kick to the leporid's jaw. The tabby fell backwards on his ass while the leporid rolled through the air with blood flying out of his mouth, and Krystal sprung rearward as the large equine swung at her with his electro-baton, her MX-1 rifle flying up as her boots skidded across the floor. The equine's chest suddenly burst open in a splash of red that flung his body a meter back and crashed it to the ground as the tabby leapt to his feet, his muzzle stained with gore and a vibro-knife in his hand. Krystal slipped her arm through the rifle's sling and threw it over her shoulder, casually dodging the blade as it sliced through the air in front of her face. Krystal's foot came up, pumping the sole of her boot into the tabby's sternum and sending him back into the floor as she drew a DC-15 blaster and shot a blue particle beam into his forehead. The rabbit by now had crawled, disoriented, to his feet with blood streaming from his mouth and began to run away, bringing his blaster pistol out of his pants and aiming around his back. He fired off a single crimson bolt that winked past Krystal's hip before the vixen twisted around and shot him in the spine.

It was over in barely a moment, so fast that Fox had only time to watch slack-jawed as Krystal turned back to face him, sprinkled with specks of the equine's blood and glaring indignantly as her bottlebrush tail twitched.

"Are you just going to _stand _there?" she demanded sharply, turning to leave.

Fox tried to stammer out a reply, tried to regain some sort of cohesiveness and deal with the fact that they were still in the middle of the insanity that the club had become, but by the time that he found the ability to speak Krystal was already marching towards a curtain of silver beads near the glowing blue bar.

"What? Wait, Falco's still in here somewhere!" Fox implored her, finally able to talk.

"He's probably outside. The police are here; I _don't _deal with cops anymore," Krystal fired back, continuing towards the curtain.

"How do _you _know?"

"I'm _psychic_, idiot, remember? There are two hostile response teams outside that are about to storm the building," Krystal snapped, stopping and glowering over her shoulder at him, her curved ears quivering slightly, "I'm _not _going to be in here when they do."

There was a certain precision in her words and movements, almost as if she had predetermined what to do and how to act beforehand, rather than simply acting natural. From the cold, commanding tone of her voice to the alluring, predatory way that she looked at him, Fox could tell that she was trying to provoke some sort of response from him. She was _toying _with him, somehow. Or at the very least, testing him.

Fox had little chance to dwell on the idea, since she promptly strode through the curtain without waiting for his reply, and he had little choice but to follow.

* * *

From the level below, Wolf could hear the jarring bellow of "POLICE!" as dozens of heavy footsteps rumbled across the carpets of the first floor seating area, eliciting several more yells from the club-goers still inside as strong voices commanded them to get down on the floor.

Wolf's fur began to stand on end and he cursed, the StarWolf Team backing away from the top of the stairs.

"Those are tactical squads down there," Leon whispered, leveling his SK-7 at the stairwell with a cautious but .

"We're _fucked_-"

"Shut tha' fuck up," Wolf snarled at Panther, cutting him off in mid-speech with bared teeth. The only way out was down that staircase, through the room now flooded with cops. The only option, it seemed, was to shoot their way through them. Wolf was perfectly fine with that.

"Team B! Second level!" a voice from the floor below ordered, and a loud series of thumping steps making their way to the stairwell reached Wolf's lupine ears.

"Put your guns away," Wolf instructed quietly, thrusting his blaster into the holster on his hip.

"What're you talking about?" Leon clamored, the pitch of his voice spiking higher with confusion.

"Shut up n' _do _it!" Wolf growled, his optical implant casting a cerulean hue on his face, "An' get behind me; we only got one shot at this."

Leon and Panther complied, slipping their blasters away and drawing close behind Wolf as the stairs pounded with the sound of charging feet.

Wolf closed his mouth in a scowl and rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, hearing the quiet pop of the joints in his neck, his right hand moving over his belt as black helmets rose up from the opening in the floor. A five member hostile response team, all canines of various breeds carrying EX-3 blaster rifles and clad in navy blue body armor with the words APOLLO POLICE on the chest flooded up the stairs, scattering as soon as they reached the top and leveling their rifles at Wolf.

"Freeze! Hands in the air, fucker!" a German Shepherd on the team barked.

"I _hate _cops," Wolf snarled, poking a clawed finger into a small red button on his belt.

A pinkish white energy field enveloped Wolf with an electric warble, and two surprised cops yelped in shock and fired. Two verdant blaster bolts flashed into the energy bubble surrounding Wolf and instantly bounced back into the officers that had fired them. The two cops went down in a splash of sparks as the energy bubble disintegrated and Leon bounded onto a table, Wolf leapt to the side and Panther rolled across the floor, drawing their blasters. The three remaining cops shouted and fired, green particle beams flashing through the darkness, illuminating Leon springing off the table and twisting through the air, then landing and whipping his tail into the rightmost cop's chest. As the cop fell backwards spraying green blaster bolts into the ceiling, an emerald particle beam from Panther's 23-E tore into the center cop's shin, crumpling the terrier to the ground with a cry of misery.

Bolts from the leftmost cop's rifle chewed into a table near Wolf as he fired off a glob of plasma from his gun that hit the cop's armored chest and threw him against the wall as Leon dove after his target, dagger in hand. The chameleon tackled the cop in mid-fall, shoving his blade into the canine's neck and tearing open his throat before the two hit the ground. Two more shots from Panther burned into the center cop's chest and then his shoulder as Wolf crashed into his victim, tearing his claws across the Rottweiler's cheek and kneeing him in the stomach with a spiked kneepad. The Rottweiler shouted and struggled as Wolf tore the blaster rifle out of his hands, kicked him back into the wall and shot him four times in the stomach with the automatic weapon. The terrier that Panther shot let out a few syllables of a pained cry for help before Wolf swung the rifle around and sprayed five green blaster bolts into his body.

There wasn't even a second to take in the five corpses scattered around them before a rough voice from below shouted "Shots fired! Shots fired! Team A engage!"

The stomping steps of the approaching tactical team from the first floor reached Wolf's ears and brought a frustrated glower to his face, his rough lupine tail swishing through the air. Panther aimed his 23-E at the top of the stairs; his golden eyes rounded anxiously while Leon stood to his feet, bloody dagger held ready as the sounds of the hostile response team's approach grew louder. The scowl vanished from Wolf's muzzle as he recalled the dull metal cylinder no bigger than a small soft drink can clipped to his belt. Gripping the rifle's stock with one hand, Wolf mentally thanked himself for having the foresight to bring the device as he snatched it off his belt, flicked the safety switch and pressed his thumb into the small activation button, stepping toward the staircase.

"Is that a _grenade_?" Panther asked, his jaw hanging open.

"Naw, it's a _donut_, tha' cops'll be too busy fightin' over it ta' _chase_ us," Wolf came back quickly, hurling the cylinder down the stairwell and backing away, aiming the blaster rifle at the stairs. Voices below shouted in panic, then a bright flash and a deafening boom cracked through the building, the floor at Wolf's feet shuddering from the blast wave as a cloud of brown dust whooshed up the stairwell and filled his nostrils with the stench of burnt masonry and fresh blood.

The sound of the explosion left a squealing ring in Wolf's ears that dulled his hearing, but he could still perceive that the club's blaring sound system had gone mute. After a stunned silence, everyone alive on the floor below—almost all covered in gore, not always their own—started to scream.

"Yeah, Panther," Wolf remarked dryly, "It's a grenade."

"At least it _was_," Leon smirked.

"Let's go. Run out like we're bystanders gettin' away from tha' explosion," Wolf instructed, tossing the blaster rifle to the floor and leading them down the stairs.

The seating area had been transformed; indistinguishable from the way it had looked at the beginning of the night. The wall at the bottom of the stairs was blackened with a starburst-shaped scorch-mark, a crater forming a shallow basin in the wall and floor. It was impossible to tell if Team A had been made up of five officers or six, since no corpse wearing the uniform remained intact. A collection of body parts—arms, legs, pieces of skull, limbless torsos perforated with shrapnel—spread out from the bottom of the stairs, while blood saturated the black carpets to the point that it had collected in several places in large puddles.

An empty ballistic helmet, no piece of its owner anywhere nearby, was embedded in the wall across the room, and a blaster rifle with a disembodied canine forearm still gripping it pointed to the corpse of a red-plumed avian in a white bustier with pieces of jagged metal sunken into her back. The ceiling, tables, and walls all around were peppered with tiny metal shrapnel. Beyond, as a small stream of club goers began to frantically scamper towards the door crying and screaming, Wolf could see the large Anubis statue coming out of the wall, calmly flashing the holographic message **You Are All My Children** from his neon pink eyes, however the message periodically changed to **You Are All Slaves**.

"Game point: Wolf," Panther muttered as they surveyed the damage, several people screaming and bolting past them towards the door.

As Wolf glanced at the scattered handful of cadavers littering the floor that _weren't _cops, he felt his breathing become slightly heavier, and a tightness built up in his chest that made him wonder for a brief moment if he was wounded. As he ran a quick hand over his chest, Wolf remembered that this was the same heavy feeling that he'd gotten when he saw that boy on Aquas. This time, the weight seemed somehow heavier.

The urgency of the situation forced the feeling out of the front of Wolf's mind, but didn't completely banish it from his perception as they holstered their blasters and took off with a scattered group of screaming, bleeding, crying people. The frosted doors of Club Glamorama had been propped open, the rooftop parking lot surrounding the club now a hive of chaos as thick crowds of people packed around the edges of the parking lot, scrambling to their skycars in rooftop spaces or into the stairwell leading to the parking levels below. The immediate area around the club entrance had been cordoned off by a group of seven Apollo Police officers that struggled to contain the crowd and funnel the escaping patrons off to the sides.

Three police skimmers and a larger armored skyvan with the words HOSTILE RESPONSE TEAM had landed in the immediate area, their blue and red lights flashing while two more skimmers hovered in a holding pattern over the rooftop, high-intensity searchlights sweeping over the building. A group of about five fish-like CSB scanner droids floated over the heads of the gathered crowds, documenting the faces of everyone present with their eye-like holocam lenses. As lanes of air traffic continued to flow in between the momentous grey skyscrapers of Apollo, a white medshuttle glided overhead with red lights flashing and it's siren wailing, looking for a place to land while a large yellow skyvan with the logo of the Lylat News Network began to level off above the club, inspecting the scene that had developed.

The StarWolf Team continued with the screaming, escaping crowd, then broke off and followed the outside walls of the club, staying as far from the cops as they could before turning a corner and continuing through the parking lot, peeking over their shoulders to see if they'd been noticed.

"Well, that didn't go quite as planned, did it?" Panther remarked casually, straightening his ruffled green shirt and pinstriped vest, "In fact, I think calling it a clusterfuck would be putting it a bit mildly. Nice going, Wolf."

"Fuck off," Wolf replied brazenly, looking up to the sky. He figured they could take a taxi to the rooftop nearby where he'd hidden his Wolfen; they could monitor the situation at the club with a pair of macrobinoculars he'd left in the cockpit along with the zoom features on his implant. They'd be able to see McCloud or Lombardi when they exited the club with Kursed and follow them for the next move.

It would be hard to get a taxi though, with dozens of patrons on the rooftop likely intending to do the same. Perhaps they could steal a skycar…

Wolf ran his eye over the parked skycars on the roof, seeing Geminis, Harrisons, AirTechs, and even some Utilicas of any make and model, almost all unoccupied and prime for the taking. His gaze passed over a bright red Kaier MS 300, moving over to a green Harrison Fugitive SE, then stopped and moved back to the sleek, sloping Kaier. Peeking over the dashboard of the MS 300 were the bulbous blue eyes and green skin of a male amphibian, a red and white cap perched on his head.

A savage grin spread across Wolf's jaws as he locked eyes with the amphibian, which ballooned even larger in dread and recognition.

"Well, I'll be _damned_," Wolf intimidated, resting a hand on the grip of his blaster.

"What?" Leon inquired, following Wolf's gaze and smirking as soon as his reptilian eyes found Slippy Toad.

"Hel-lo, Mister Toad," Panther purred, his tail curving with amusement.

The StarWolf Team strode across the concrete surface of the parking lot, bearing down on the Kaier slowly as the amphibian inside took huge-openmouthed breaths and began to hysterically squirm.

"Nah-uh," Wolf growled, stopping Leon from reaching for his blaster as they came within ten meters of the car, "Don't wanna draw too much attention from tha' cops over there."

"Besides," Panther shrugged, "It's _Slippy Toad_. What's _he _going to do?"

The StarWolf Team was suddenly bathed in yellow floodlights as a turbocharged repulsorlift engine whirred to life. The Kaier shot forward, blasting towards the space that the StarWolf Team stood upon. Panther yelped and dove to the side as Leon frantically screamed Wolf's name and tackled him to the ground as Wolf instinctively drew his blaster. Leon and Wolf landed on the concrete, the StarWolf leader squeezing off a single shot that plowed into the skycar's door in a burst of green fire as the vehicle sped over the concrete and climbed through the air like a spirit out of hell. Wolf followed the escaping skycar with his eye, then he faced Leon lying on top of him, staring at him with an unusually concerned (and vaguely contented) glaze over his yellow eyes.

"Get off me!" Wolf snapped, shoving Leon off and shooting up to his feet, gazing back at the skycar and cramming his blaster into its holster.

He shoved up the cuff of his left gauntlet and pressed the call button on the slave circuit bracelet connected to his Wolfen. With an animal wail of a high-power plasma engine, a large tarp-covered object levitated several meters off of the unused rooftop of a nearby skyscraper. As the object moved forward, the white tarp fell away to reveal the x-winged, split fuselage of Wolf's VenCom B-35 Wolfen, which hovered across the space between the two buildings and turned to the side, the cockpit canopy opening up. Several shouts of alarm could be heard from the gathered crowds on the other side of the building, and the searchlights of one of the police skimmers hovering overhead swept over their section of parking lot and highlighted the StarWolf Team and the Wolfen hovering just beyond the edge of the roof.

"Grab a taxi an' meet me back at tha' hotel. Have IG get tha' dropship down here," Wolf commanded, looking back to Leon and Panther as they picked themselves up from the pavement. Leon's only response was to swallow and nod, and Wolf took off running for the edge. He crossed into the bright spot of illumination given off by the police skimmer's searchlight, feeling his feet scrape the ferroconcrete edge of the roof and push off. For a brief second, Wolf felt the sensation of flying. The rush in his heart, the wind in his fur, it all made everything else meaningless in that one moment that he felt unbound by everything. Then his chest slapped into the black-painted main fuselage of the fighter, his arms grasping into the cockpit as his legs dangled hundreds of meters in the air. He threw himself into the cockpit with a grunt, settling into the pilot's seat and pressing the button to close the canopy. The durasteel canopy hinged shut over his head, his optical implant automatically adopting the logistics and targeting heads-up display for his Wolfen as he strapped himself in.

The searchlights continued to sweep over the fighter as his left hand wrapped around the throttle, Wolf's eye locking onto the taillights of the fleeing Kaier skycar.

"Here I come, froggy," Wolf growled, opening the throttle up.

The Wolfen screamed to life and blasted through the skyline.

* * *

Fox tried to stammer out some sort of command as he followed her through the dark corridor to the rear exit of the club, struggling to deal with the somewhat competing thoughts of what he wanted to say to Krystal after so long and how he needed to handle the current situation.

"So, Kursed, huh?" Fox inquired, looking over his shoulder at the swinging curtain of sliver beads and the club behind, his blaster ready in case some new threat emerged after them.

"Glad we're on the same page," Krystal remarked dully, not looking back.

"It's definitely a-" Fox began, only to get cut off as an ear-shattering boom erupted from the depths of the club, rattling the walls around them and stopping them in their tracks.

"Shit, that was an explosion," Fox breathed, starting towards the curtain as screams could be heard on the other side.

As he looked back at Krystal, he saw her staring at him ridiculously over her shoulder, her back still turned.

"People are going to be _hurt_! Come on," Fox explained, beckoning for her to follow.

"What can _you _do to help them?" Krystal interrogated, continuing towards the door.

Fox tried to step through the curtain back into the club, finding himself unable to continue as Krystal headed in the opposite direction. Both his mission and his love were going the other way. With a grumbled shake of his head, he followed her.

Krystal threw open the rear door, walking down the stoop under a dim yellow glowlamp, surrounded by dumpsters and trash compactors, with a waist-high concrete ledge separating them from the edge of the roof. As they walked out into the night, Fox could feel the cool breeze on his fur and the relative silence compared to the stifled, blaring and chaotic club. It was like stepping back into reality.

"Do you have the disc? And a car, as well?" Krystal demanded quietly, looking both ways.

"Yes," Fox answered, only now beginning to perceive the aloofness in her voice as she spoke.

Of course she wouldn't be happy to see him. Who could blame her, after what he'd done to her? Then again, it could've just been the fact of everything else going on at the moment. It was probably better to get out of this situation, and leave the reunion for later.

"We need to find Falco, first. Maybe even talk to the police; StarWolf was in there," Fox said.

"Fine, let's just _leave_," Krystal said dismissively.

The earpiece comlink in Fox's ear crackled a bit, then a high voice babbled, "Fox! Fox, he's coming right after me! The psycho's in a _Wolfen_!"

"Slow down, Slippy, what?" Fox demanded, touching a finger to the earpiece.

Instead of an answer, he heard the whirring of the Kaier MS 300 shooting over top the Club Glamorama building, then an animalistic scream as an x-winged Wolfen star fighter blasted through the air close behind.

"That's Slippy," Fox remarked breathlessly, watching as the star fighter streamed after the much smaller skycar.

Krystal's eyes followed the two air vehicles and she let out an irritated sigh, pressing a button on a small slave-circuit keypad built into the wrist of her left glove.

"A shot from that thing'll blow Slippy out of the sky," Fox said, barely able to think. He had to find a cop or something, had to find some way to stop the Wolfen—

An odd red contraption with white stripes painted on it hovered up to their level, just beyond the ledge. The rugged device looked like little more than a turbofan engine with a high-backed seat and a steering column swooping down from a pair of handlebars on the front. The steering column terminated in a wedge-shaped plow like control vane, while several more control flaps poked out of various points on the engine. The vehicle's rear was dominated by a pair of turbothrusters in the back, while a shuddering exposed repulsorlift engine could be seen just under the spinning jet turbine. It was a heavily chopped type of skimbike, the high-performance variant of a speeder bike engineered to operate at much higher altitudes. As the skimbike idled in the air close to the rooftop, Krystal shrugged the Cygnet rifle off of her shoulder and examined it, clicking the selector switch and then shoving the gun into Fox's hands.

"Get on. I'll drive, you shoot," she instructed, stepping up onto the ledge and throwing her leg over the skimbike, straddling it with a slight rocking motion.

"We're riding on _that_?" Fox demanded, running his eyes over the rugged-looking skimbike incredulously.

"Oh, not to worry, I promise not to drive_ too_ fast. Wouldn't want to get your fur ruffled or chip a _nail_, would we?" Krystal responded with a disdainful sneer, cocking her blue-furred head coolly to the side.

Fox sniffed, approached the ledge and slumped onto the bike seat behind Krystal, propping the butt of the rifle on his right thigh as his left arm wrapped around her waist. He looked down, beholding the hundreds of meters of air between him and the ground, with nothing securing him onto the skimbike aside from his grip on Krystal. Adrenaline flowing through his veins, Fox could finally smell that unmistakable Krystal scent as her muscled back pushed up against his chest. She had a very distinctive, purified aroma, almost like a forest after a light rain. The confusion and terror of the situation melted away for just a moment, and Fox allowed himself to sink into the pleasure of just being around her.

"By the way," Fox said quietly, "It's good to see you again."

Krystal's only response was a deadpan, slightly disgusted glance over her shoulder that left Fox regretting he'd said anything in the first place.

Then Krystal revved the skimbike and it rocketed off into the night.

* * *

The fighter screeched as Wolf tried to keep the small Kaier's ruby taillights in sight, flying 300 meters over Basin Plaza. Even though the Wolfen could easily overtake the skycar at its most mediocre speed, Wolf didn't dare throttle up any further—he had to keep his velocity low for tighter turns and to avoid splattering himself all over the side of one of the dozens of skyscrapers around them in the cluttered Apollo skyline. The Kaier swerved into a busy airlane, shooting away as Wolf grinned and flew the fighter overtop the flowing skycars, producing several surprised honks of the car horns. If Wolf was able to destroy the car (better yet to force it to land and capture Slippy Toad), the rest of StarWolf could better track StarFox and Kursed as they left Apollo, or demand that they hand over the discs as ransom. It was also a simple target of opportunity; though he liked fighting Fox, the other members of StarFox were annoyances that better suited him dead than alive.

Slippy Toad let out fraught screams of terror, jerking the control yoke of the Kaier to the side and bumping into the front fender of a skycar in the other lane. A red laser bolt flashed past the windshield, exploding into the side of a nearby building as the amphibian continued to swerve wildly into whatever open space he could find in the next lane, the roar of the star fighter's engines above rumbling through the skycar's carriage. His green fingers flew over the primary control console, fumbling for some sort of instrument panel or access to the circuitry of the skycar itself. He had to disengage the restraining module that would deactivate the car if it tried to leave the boundaries of the airlane, he was nothing more than a moving target as long as Wolf could just follow the airlanes and continue to take shots at him. Slippy had done it before, just never when the car was in motion, let alone while trying to escape a star fighter. Another red laser blast tore into the car in front of Slippy, sending the orange hot rod burning to the ground as Slippy wailed and swerved the car into the side of a brown Utilica skyvan. Slippy was thrown about in his seat as the skyvan honked and he tried to regain control, weaving laterally through the air and suddenly slamming on the airbrakes for lack of anything else to do.

The Wolfen screamed overhead, and Slippy began to breathe a sigh of relief and look back to the control console as a green Brosnan Night Fire smashed into the Kaier's rear. Slippy's chest slammed into the control yoke, the seatbelt digging painfully into his shoulders as the skycar fishtailed to the side through the air. He threw himself back into his seat with a gasp of breath, gunning the Kaier back down the airlane as his fingers flew over the controls once again, finding a closed metal panel just under the dashboard near the steering column. He tore the panel open, exposing dozens of plugs, wires and circuitry, yanked the uplink cord from his wrist-mounted data assistant and shoved it into one of the ports in the control panel. A small holographic control display appeared above his wrist, and Slippy's attention once again returned to the airlane in front of him. He yelped and tore into the other lane to avoid rear-ending a bright yellow Harrison Widowmaker, slamming on the airbrakes as the skycars in front of him came to a stop at a glowing orange traffic light hovering in the space between the airlanes.

"Access restraint module properties," Slippy instructed his data assistant.

**Access Denied to Renters**, his wrist flashed emotionlessly.

"Dammit!" Slippy cursed, his large mouth coming open as sweat began to ooze over his green skin.

"Access program: Slippy's Worm," Slippy stammered into his wrist, "Run compatibility for connected auxiliary system."

**Configuring…**the data assistant replied.

"Shit, shit, shit," Slippy breathed nervously, his large blue eyes darting out the windshield and scanning the skies above, wondering in the back of his mind just how Fox had managed to convince him to return to the death and insanity that was integral to Team StarFox. This was _exactly_ the kind of stuff Amanda was afraid he'd get into by going back to the team, and right now her arguments for him to leave and get a "real job" as she put it were hard to counter.

He stared into the rearview mirror, seeing that several of the cars behind him were now taking any exit that they could to get out of the lane, trying to escape the fighter's assault. In the distance, he could see the red and blue flashing lights of an approaching police skimmer. Then a familiar x-winged fighter blasted over the buildings far ahead, on an attack run of the airlane.

Slippy squealed and threw the skycar in reverse, just barely registering as the data assistant flashed the message **Enter command Ctrl:/ Users/Slippy**

"Access restraint module properties," Slippy blurted out frantically, the Kaier whizzing backwards through the emptied airlane as a pair of crimson laser blasts from the Wolfen tore into two of the skycars still waiting at the traffic light. The fighter dipped lower over the roofs of the skycars, rocketing over the Kaier with a scream of engines that stung Slippy's ears.

He twisted the control yoke, spinning the skycar into a J-turn in the other direction. As the screen in the center of the control yoke informed him 'WRONG DIRECTION! PLEASE TURN AROUND', the data assistant displayed the words **Airlane Restraint System access allowed. Enter command Ctrl:/ Users/Slippy**

"Manual override!" Slippy shouted as the verdant green engine fires of the Wolfen sailed up into the night sky and began to curve back around over the airlane.

**Restraint System disengage**, the data assistant flashed as the screen on the control yoke went blank.

Without a word, Slippy pressed down on the accelerator and shoved the yoke upwards, diving the skycar down through the boundaries of the airlane as red laser blasts began to stream out of the Wolfen. The blasts pounded into the surrounding buildings with flashing bursts of fire, the star fighter streaking over the airlane as Slippy flew the car around a tall multilevel skyscraper.

Inside his Wolfen, Wolf cursed and jerked his control stick to the right, the Wolfen banking hard to the side and blasting after Slippy Toad.

* * *

The skimbike raced forward through the moonlit city. The turbofan engine roared and shook between his legs as the wind whipped through his fur, the Apollo skyline streaming past as Krystal gripped onto the handlebars. Fox dug his fingers into the handgrip on the rifle, struggling to keep it propped against his stomach and balanced on his knee. The rifle was heavy, especially with one hand; his arm was getting tired. He had no idea how he was supposed to aim it for a shot at the Wolfen.

Krystal's azure hair blew all around her head, sometimes in front of Fox's face as the skimbike tore through the air just above a flowing airlane of skycar traffic. Just under the howling wind, they both heard cracking explosions and flashes of light as an x-winged star fighter curved up out of a canyon of buildings and banked back around a tower with glittering blue lights.

"Hold on!" Krystal instructed, her back flexing as she turned the handlebars. The skimbike suddenly dove towards the ground, following the Wolfen's descent below the rooftops. There was the weightless feeling of freefall, and Fox could feel the skin begin to pull away from his face. Even though he knew this was a much slower speed than being in an Arwing, the open air swirling around them and the relative closeness to the ground made it all feel much, much faster to Fox.

They gained on the Wolfen, drawing closer to its green engine fires as it pulled out of its dive and leveled off several dozen meters over a busy street. Far ahead, they could see the twin red taillights of a single skycar that was flying over the street, moving independently of the rigidly-controlled airlanes: Slippy.

"Get ready! Aim for the center of mass!" Krystal shouted.

"What?" Fox replied over the howling wind as the skimbike lurched and the rifle nearly fell out of his hand.

"Just SHOOT IT!" she barked, thrusting her arm towards the fighter.

Fox lifted his arm, trying to tune out the lights, moving cars and pedestrians blurring by mere meters below, leveling the rifle at the fighter and pulling the trigger. There was no sound, no jerk of recoil as it fired, merely a soft electric clicking sound.

Inside the Wolfen, the main console suddenly turned to static as the engines sputtered, the bluish bubble of the deflector shields flickering visibly. Wolf cursed with confusion as he wrestled with the unresponsive control stick, the fly-by-wire system compromised by what he couldn't fathom.

The fighter wobbled uncontrollably and swerved to the right as the skimbike zoomed past, Fox looking over his shoulder and seeing the fighter suddenly regain stability. The Wolfen screamed past them once again, blasting through a holographic advertisement as they both gained on the Kaier skycar. The skimbike revved as it caught up with the fighter, two laser bolts lancing from the Wolfen and searing overtop the skycar's roof. The Kaier swerved around a narrow corner and the Wolfen blew past, rocketing upwards into the sky to come back around.

Krystal guided the bike around the corner after the Kaier, and Fox leaned back in the seat, taking his hand off of Krystal's waist and putting it to his ear.

"Slippy, I'm on the skimbike behind you!" Fox shouted over the wind into his earpiece, hoping that Slippy could hear.

"—ow the hell—we stop him?" Slippy's voice came in, broken up over the comlink.

"Just follow me; we're going to try losing him!" Fox yelled back.

The skycar and the skimbike formed up over the street and turned off into a much wider corridor between two walls of shining buildings. The moon came out from behind the clouds just as the Wolfen screamed out of the Cornerian sky, Fox frantically lifting the rifle up to take aim. A thick laser bolt shot from the Wolfen just past the skimbike, and Krystal's right hand withdrew one of her blasters from its holster and fired ineffectually as the fighter roared overhead. Fox tried to follow the fighter over his shoulder, but the Wolfen disappeared behind a skyscraper as they sped through the air. The skimbike led the way with the Kaier following close behind as they climbed back up through the skyline, leveling off over a thick airlane of traffic as they heard a scream of engines behind them. Fox looked over his shoulder to see the Wolfen soaring towards them over the airlane, letting loose a hail of crimson laser fire. Explosions began to blossom along the airlane as dozens of skycars fell burning to the ground, several more laser beams streaming past Fox and Krystal's heads.

"Perfect shot coming up. Take it!" Krystal shouted, throttling the bike forward then stomping on the airbrakes, fishtailing the bike ninety degrees to a stop. Fox raised the rifle towards the screaming Wolfen and pulled the trigger, hearing the clicking noise and watching as the microwaves did their work on the fighter's circuitry.

The engines sputtered and the shields winked as the Wolfen rolled through the air. The fighter swerved wildly, crashing clear through a neon sign before diving towards the ground.

"Go, Slip, we've got him!" Fox ordered, and the Kaier blasted off into the sky, turning off in the opposite direction.

"Hold down the trigger and keep it _on _him. Make sure he crashes," Krystal instructed, then dived the skimbike down after the fighter.

Inside the Wolfen, Wolf fought for a response from the lifeless controls as the displays clouded with static and the engines stalled. He gritted his teeth in anger, unable to understand what the hell was happening to his fighter, then suddenly the controls returned and he yanked the stick backwards, pulling the Wolfen hard out of the dive. His stomach lurched and he sunk back into his seat as the star fighter streaked back up into the sky, crossing paths with a red and white skimbike for just a brief instant. Time seemed to slow down slightly, just enough for Wolf to take in the red vulpine riding behind the blue vixen at the handlebars.

He snarled his teeth as the fighter streaked over the skyscrapers, pulling into a hard bank and looking out the canopy to see the skimbike coming after him through the periphery.

In the distance, he could also see the approaching blue and red lights of several police skimmers, some more than likely armed with laser cannons of their own.

The targeting crosshairs of Wolf's heads-up display finally locked onto the small target, and he held down on the firing button as the laser cannons whirred in power.

Fox could see the Wolfen curving back around through the black night sky, leaving a faint green trail as it sped forward. It was more than possible that he'd seen them, and with only the Cygnet rifle and their blasters, they still were no match for the powerful shields and laser cannons of the star fighter. It was then that Fox noticed the red glow coming from the split fuselage of the Wolfen, and his stomach dropped with dread.

"Dive!" Fox shouted, just as a thick red charged shot erupted from the Wolfen's guns.

The skimbike torpedoed towards the ground, Fox nearly lifted off of the seat as his heart went into his throat and wind blasted around his face. The charged shot flashed overhead then swerved down through the air after them, flaring with scarlet light as the ground-level streets of Apollo came up to meet them. Fox tried to scream something to Krystal, then the bike pulled up mere meters over the pavement, his pelvis slamming back down into the seat and painfully crushing his tail as the charged shot plowed into the ground. The skimbike tore back up into the sky, the Wolfen already banking around for another turn. With a bellow of the turbofan engine, Krystal accelerated into a sharper turn, bringing them face to face with the fighter once again.

"Hit it again!" Krystal bellowed, and Fox took aim and fired.

The Wolfen wobbled out of the air, its shield shuddering on and off as it dived right toward them. Krystal let out a curse and rolled the bike ninety degrees, Fox yelling as the skimbike sped narrowly through the V formed by the fighter's two left wings. The bike rolled back upright as it sharply turned to finish the fighter off, and Fox felt jerk on his shoulder as the rifle grip slipped out of his fingers.

He snatched the air, brushing the butt of the gun but failing to stop it from tumbling to the ground below.

"You _fuck_wit!" Krystal snarled, sending him a glare over her shoulder.

"Just get us out of here while he's distracted!" Fox shot back, and the skimbike suddenly roared over the skyline back towards the Club Glamorama building, zooming past the squadron of police skimmers moving to intercept the Wolfen.

Fox looked back over his shoulder as they sped further and further away over the rooftops, after a moment seeing the Wolfen blast away into the sky with a trail of green fire. He put a finger to his earpiece, calling out, "Slippy! You alright?"

"I'll make it," Slippy answered, "The car's pretty banged up though."

"We'll meet you on the rooftop of the building behind Glamorama," Fox called back, "Is Falco with you?"  
"No, he wasn't back at the car before StarWolf tried to break in and get me. I didn't know what to do, I just started driving," Slippy replied.

"You did good; just meet us there. We'll sort everything out."

"Who's _us_?" Slippy investigated, "Was Kursed on the skimbike?"

"Yeah," Fox said with a smile, turning his face towards Krystal's head, "You'll see when you get there."

He put both hands back around Krystal's waist, holding on as he felt the muscles of her back and abdominal area tense up. They arrived at the building, the skimbike coming to a stop and hovering down to the ferroconcrete amongst the air conditioning and heating units scattered on the unused rooftop.

Fox slid off of the skimbike as the engine died down, backing away for a bit as Krystal dismounted with a sigh. As Fox stood a few meters away, Krystal rested against the deactivated skimbike, crossing her ankles over each other. In contrast to the high-flying insanity of the past few minutes, the still silence between the two of them allowed Fox to take in the small details of Krystal that he still recognized: the way she pursed her lips and looked off to the side when she was deep in thought; the rigid, tight posture that she held, indicating that despite all of the fierceness he'd seen, Krystal was clearly trying to hide a level of insecurity. A puff of breath escaped her muzzle, and she calmly brushed a lock of azure hair out of her eyes as she ran her eyes over the roof structures, the almost oppressive glittering skyline, anywhere but in Fox's direction.

He swallowed and shuffled his feet, trying to think of something to say.

"Sorry about your gun," Fox began awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. Krystal gave him a blank look, then rolled her eyes as she leaned against the skimbike. Her entire body was rigid, her face stoic. The only things that seemed to convey any kind of intensity were her hard, aqua-colored eyes.

"I'm… I don't know what to say," Fox admitted with a nervous smile, "I've thought of this for a while, but I guess I'm kind of at a loss. I was going to look all over the System for you. Didn't expect you to find _me_."

There was no response from the blue vixen. Fox cleared his throat, his fingers flexing in his hands.

"You've…you've really surprised me. I can see you've changed a lot over the year. And this whole thing with the CSB, you helped them put this all together, didn't you? I'm impressed," Fox offered.

Krystal crossed her arms and stared at him icily, an eyebrow curling upward into her bangs. She drummed a finger on her bicep, scrutinizing him like one would a large insect on a kitchen floor.

His heart began to sink further down into his chest and he exhaled, licking his lips. He looked off for a moment, trying to avoid her gaze, then returned to her hard cyan eyes.

"I'm sorry for what happened," Fox said quietly, "I can't imagine what it's been like for you. You've got every right to be angry."

"_Angry_?" she demanded sharply, narrowing her eyes at him as if doing so would encase Fox in a block of ice. This continued for a few seconds of silence in which Fox felt smaller and smaller, a weakened feeling slowly spreading throughout his chest. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

Krystal looked off to the side, closed her eyes and breathed. When she opened them and faced him again, the razor-like glare had dulled, and her features relaxed. Her face almost looked exactly as he remembered it.

"Fox…" Krystal said, her voice much softer this time, "I'm…I'm _not_ angry. It's… It's just been a while. I'm going to need to get used to seeing you again. But, I might as well not make it difficult, shall I?"

The blue vixen gave him a tender smile, a vague ghost of the warm, sultry smiles she'd used to give him. Fox tried to return the look and came a step closer. He tried to ignore the slightly calculating gleam in her eyes that broke through the sentimentality every so often, telling himself that it was just a trick of the light.

"I'm sorry for everything," he replied gently, "I know there's nothing I can do, I want to try everything we can to-"

"Ssh," she cut him off, cocking her head towards the sky playfully, that premeditative twitch breaking through her soft face once again, "We can have this talk later."

The bright red Kaier MS 300 skycar floated over the building's roof, then settled down onto the ferroconcrete several meters away from them. Fox could notice several dents and scratches in the once perfect surface of the car, including a large, crumpled deformation in the rear that had horribly warped the taillights. Slippy Toad hopped out of the car and scampered towards them.

"What the hell happened in there? The whole place just went…" Slippy trailed off, his eyes locking onto Krystal and going wide.

"Holy crap…" Slippy remarked slowly, "_Krystal?_"

"Hello, Slippy," Krystal returned with a faint smile.

Slippy looked from Fox to Krystal and back, his mouth cracked open.

"I...uh, h-h...how?" Slippy stuttered, confounded, "Y..._You're _Kursed?"

Krystal nodded softly. Slippy's face suddenly lit up and a beaming smile appeared across his lips.

"Ohhh! It all makes sense now!" Slippy cried, looking over to Fox, "_That's_ why Kursed wanted _us_ on this! She wanted to _find _us!"

"Yes! Yes, that's right," Krystal agreed, perhaps too enthusiastically, as if she had brought it up.

Slippy let out a jubilant giggle, rushed forward and threw his arms around Krystal, producing a surprised yip from the blue vixen. Slippy was a good thirty centimeters or so shorter than Krystal and quite a bit wider, thus the amphibian's bulging eyes were buried in the vixen's neck while every other part of her body was eclipsed by the slightly rotund frog.

"It's _so _great to see you again!" Slippy chirped, "Now we're all back together!"

As Krystal's arms slowly came around to pat Slippy's back, Fox saw a slightly distressed, confused look cross the vixen's face, almost like she didn't know what to do. She met Fox's eyes and he couldn't help giving off a goofy, beaming smile as he scratched the back of his head. Krystal's eyes looked down to the ground as the look faded into a distant, almost somber visage, her hands amicably stroking Slippy's back.

"I—I missed you too, Slippy," Krystal replied airily.

They separated and Slippy looked her up and down, then over to Fox, his face alight as if the near-death chase through the skies of Apollo hadn't even happened.

"Well, aside from the people trying to kill us, this assignment keeps getting better and better!" Slippy beamed, to which Fox smirked in response.

As he opened his mouth to say something, Fox could hear a crackle of static in his earpiece that also erupted from the comlink on Slippy's wrist mounted data assistant.

"…Uggh. Yo, where _is _everybody?" a tough urban voice came in over the comlinks.

"Falco!" Fox remarked, putting a finger to his earpiece, "Where the hell have _you _been?"

"In Glamorama gettin' _shot_ at! Ain't that what _you _were up ta'? While you was out dancin' with Wolfie, my hands were full with Leon an' Panther an' all tha' otha' guys tryin' ta' fry me. Then Wolfie drops in an' I got him dead ta' rights, an' that _scaly_ fucker from tha' briefin' shows up an' knocks my ass across tha' room. I musta' blacked out or somethin'. When I came to, there was paramedics tryin' ta' see if I was dead or not," Falco elaborated, "Damn, shit went fuckin' _ballistic_ while I was out; there's ass, blood an' guts all over tha' place. They say somethin' blew up."

"Yeah, I heard it," Fox nodded, "You still in one piece?"

"It doesn't feel like anything's missin," Falco replied, "Ughhh, dammit! I think I got fuckin' _entrails _on my pants! And somethin' tore my jacket. Too bad, I kinda liked it. How 'bout you? Ya' got any new scars?"

Fox examined the left sleeve of his jacket where Wolf had clawed him back in the club. Through four nearly identical rips in the brown suede, he could see the four cuts in his forearm just beginning to scab over, the orange-red fur of his arm matted with dried blood. It just barely stung, but it wasn't something that he'd have to worry about. The cuts would probably heal quickly, even without provitate ointment. He was even pretty sure that Wolf had done something like this to him once or twice before, and other than the bruises from the blows he'd taken from Wolf and other assailants in the club, Fox was unscathed.

"Can't say I do," Fox shrugged, "Rotten luck, huh? You still at Glamorama?"

"I'm waitin' outside, tha' car's _gone_, so it's not like I could go anywhere else," Falco grumbled, "Is Slip with ya?"

"Yeah. Stay there, we're coming to pick you up," Fox answered, beckoning Krystal and Slippy to follow him to the car.

"What about Kursed? Did ya ever run inta' her or did we miss her?"

"No, she's here with us. It's a little complicated; you'll see when we get there," Fox said, lifting open the Kaier's gull wing door on the driver's side as Slippy opened the passenger's side, noting a dent and a long series of deep scratches in the red paintjob.

That _definitely _wasn't going to buff out. Even with the renter's insurance, it would probably be a hassle explaining the damage to CorneraCar.

"Whaddaya mean? What kinda complicated? Is she hot?" Falco probed over the comlink.

As Fox slipped into the driver's seat, he saw Krystal duck into the car and climb over the passenger seat to join Slippy in the back, her athletic curves accentuated by the tight armorweave bodysuit.

"Oh yeah," Fox smiled, his eyes tracing over her figure and following her into the seat, "You could say that."

Krystal caught his gaze and smiled softly back at him, then exhaled and shook her head slowly as she looked out the window.

"Then I don't see no complication at all, Foxie. Where ya' guys at?" Falco remarked.

"On the building behind Glamorama. We'll be there in a second," Fox said as the skycar's gull-wing doors closed and he pressed the starter button. The skycar's engine whirred to life and Fox experienced a slight sinking feeling as the vehicle rose into the air.

"So, Krystal," Slippy piped up as the Kaier began to hover away from the building and towards the skyscraper that Glamorama was located upon, "What've you been doing for the past…well, you know, the past year?"

"Slippy," Fox chided, "Come on, this probably isn't the best time."

"I was just _asking_…" Slippy whined, "I'm sorry if it's a touchy subject or something, Krystal."

"No, it's fine," Krystal replied, still staring out the window as the Apollo skyline drifted by.

"So what _were_ you doing? As _Kursed_?" Slippy inquired with a grin.

"Oh, just…surviving, Slippy," Krystal answered, "Just surviving."

Looking through the rearview mirror, Fox could see Krystal wiping the flecks of blood of the equine she'd killed off of her cheek, looking down bitterly at her fingers as if it were an all-too-familiar sight.

His hands squeezed the control yoke of the skycar and he licked his lips, a frown forming across his white-furred muzzle.

He could only dwell on the fact that it had indeed been more than a _year_, almost two, since he'd last seen Krystal. He had left her to fend for herself with little more than the clothes on her back, in a huge, complex society that she had never grown up with and often had difficulty understanding. Hell, even Fox was beginning to feel out of place and had difficulty understanding the Lylat System, and he'd lived in it all twenty nine years of his life. He could barely imagine how someone like Krystal _could_ survive in a situation like that, let alone how difficult it might've been to do so for a year. And yet she hadn't merely survived, it seemed like she'd _flourished_.

The fact that _he _had put her in that position emptied all the air out of his lungs, seemingly taking with it any happiness or thoughts he might've had about how to rekindle his and Krystal's love. The guilt tightened heavily inside of him, like a weight pressing down on his chest, and he marveled at the misery that he must've caused this girl that loved him. And after all of this, after all that he'd done through one act of carelessness, by her own words she wasn't angry.

At that moment the only things Fox wanted to do were find some way to atone for the pain that he'd caused her and start treating Krystal like the incredible person that she was.

The Kaier skycar drifted over the Glamorama building, still crowded with people, police skimmers and ambulances as CSB scanner droids continued to document the faces of everyone present. Below, in an empty corner of the parking lot, Fox was able to see a lone figure wearing a red jacket. As the Kaier hovered past the crowds, he saw the figure wave broadly at the skycar and brought the vehicle down to the pavement. Falco walked around the car, his eyes running over all of the damage along the red metal body as his blue-feathered brow wrinkled in confusion.

He lifted the gull-wing door open and began to slide into his seat, remarking, "What tha' _fuck _happened ta' tha' car? By tha' way, ya' wouldn't believe how hard it was ta' convince 'em ta' gimme my gun back. Tha' cops were about ta' arrest me before I whipped out my CPC."

Fox tried to reply or explain as Falco pulled the gull-wing door closed, but the avian cut him off, turning and looking behind his seat to the back.

"So, where's Kur-rrrrssseee…." Falco droned off, frozen as he beheld the blue vixen in the backseat. Krystal looked away from the window just long enough to smirk at him, then returned her gaze to the outside.

Falco slumped back into his seat and stared straight ahead for a second, then turned to Fox, his beak slightly open.

"A little _complicated_? Ya' gotta' be shittin' me," Falco finally said.

* * *

The process of returning the Kaier to CorneraCar, taking a taxi to the private spaceport where they had docked the _Pleiades_ and flying the shuttle back up to the _Great Fox _took almost three hours, and might've taken much longer if there had been anyone working at the CorneraCar offices to explain the Kaier's multiple damages to. It was 3:26 in the morning (Apollo time) before Fox was at the helm of the _Pleiades_ on approach to the _Great Fox_'s landing bay. They had passed the hours mostly in silence, periodically dozing off from exhaustion after the adrenaline of the night's chaos wore off. As the landing bay drew closer, a trapezoidal opening at the base of the _Great Fox_'s tail just above the gargantuan central warp engine nozzle, Fox struggled to ignore the weighted feeling of his eyelids and work through the sluggish thought processes that fatigue had made of his brain. He _needed _to stay sharp right now.

_Dreadnaught_-class cruisers like _Great Fox _hadn't exactly been designed with receiving medium-sized shuttles like the _Pleiades _in mind. They had solved this problem after the Saurian Crisis, using the reward money to overhaul and update the original _Great Fox_ and purchase a smaller decommissioned Army dropship to use as a shuttle and putting the somewhat unwieldy _Pleiades _in storage on Corneria. Of course, when Peppy purposely crashed the _Great Fox _into the Aparoid home world, completely destroying the proud ship, the dropship was also lost.

Despite managing to scrape together the 1.8 billion Liat (from a combination of the reward given to them for their role in stopping the Aparoids, some of the money left in the McCloud trust fund and the hard-fought insurance premium on the ship) needed to purchase a degraded old _Dreadnaught-_class and restore it to a similar state to the Lylat War-era _Great Fox_, buying a new drop ship was simply out of the question, meaning that they once again had to deal with the challenge of parking a medium-sized shuttle inside a landing bay built for star fighters. Though the shuttle could fit through the landing bay, it was a somewhat tight fit, and even with assistance from _Great Fox_'s tractor beam and auto-landing system, it was ironically more difficult than making a combat landing on the ship in an Arwing.

Fox shook the weary cobwebs out of his brain, shifting position in the pilot's chair and gripping the control yoke, locking his eyes on the trapezoidal landing bay opening visible through the cockpit viewport as the _Pleiades _inched forward to the _Great Fox_'s enormous fanny.

"_Great Fox_, shuttle three-four-niner _Pleiades_ advancing stern-side at point three-zero-four kilometers bearing, uh, 176 mark positive three," Fox informed into the comm., checking the navigational readouts on a nearby screen, "Request guided approach with tractor beam assist."

"**Shuttle three-four-niner, **_**Great Fox**_**, you are cleared for approach**," ROB-64's voice came in, "**Speed three-two, guided approach, checkers blue. Call the ball**."

Fox saw the red series of crossed navigational lights flashing along the lip of the landing bay, along with the crosshair-like visual cue on the glidescope display on the instrument panel above the reaction control system joystick. Using the RCS joystick to make minute changes in the _Pleiades_' position, Fox lined up the ship for a more proper approach on the landing bay, the cues on the glidescope aligning perfectly.

"Copy, _Great Fox_. I have the ball," Fox replied.

The ship shuddered slightly as the _Great Fox_'s tractor beam locked on to the shuttle, pulling it gracefully forward. Fox deactivated the _Pleiades_' sublight engines, relying only on the reaction control system to orient the ship as the landing bay opening inched closer.

"_Great Fox_, verify satisfactory approach," Fox instructed, his eyes shifting from side to side as the arrowhead-shaped bow of the _Pleiades_ slipped through the magnetic field that contained the air within the landing bay and prevented it from escaping into the vacuum of space.

"**Three-four-niner **_**Pleiades**_**, **_**Great Fox**_**, approach is verified satisfactory. Auto-landing system will guide remainder of approach and touchdown. Welcome back, Fox**," ROB answered as the opening swallowed the shuttle, the _Pleiades_ hovering just under the bright, clinical lights of the landing bay.

"Thanks, ROB, copy that," Fox yawned and sat back in his seat, watching as the ship floated down the length of the landing bay, past the large magnetic platform elevator that took landed Arwings down into the hangar bay. Nearing the abrupt white wall at the very end of the landing bay, Fox could just make out a long-eared figure in a white coat standing by the doors to the rest of the _Great Fox_ before the _Pleiades_ came to a stop and descended gracefully to the floor of the landing bay, the ship bouncing softly.

Fox swiveled his seat around and looked at the row of six chairs lining the wall, with Krystal, Slippy and Falco sitting in three of them. Falco's eyes were only just barely open, his head slumping into his right shoulder while Slippy was reclined back in his chair, fully asleep. Krystal was the only one wide awake, her chin resting on her fist as she stared pensively into space.

"Here we are," Fox said quietly.

"Here we are," Krystal repeated.

Falco's eyes fluttered open and he shook his head briefly, the bottom jaw of his beak working over lazily. He turned to Slippy and gently elbowed him in the side, insistently informing him, "Yo, we're back."

Slippy started, his large blue eyes opening as he lurched forward in his seat, his red cap nearly slipping off of his head as he mumbled to himself. They got out of their chairs and Falco and Fox each grabbed a small black duffel bag leaning against the wall containing their Team StarFox jackets, flight suits and boots, throwing them over their shoulders and then leading Krystal and Slippy down a cramped spiral staircase to the lower level of the ship. Fox reached the airlock and pressed the button next to the doorframe. The airlock door hissed open, a ramp extending from the bottom of the shuttle to the grey floor of the landing bay. Fox strode down the ramp into the freezing air of the landing bay, the rest of the StarFox Team and Krystal in tow. They came out from under the _Pleiades_, bathed in the white lights as Peppy Hare awaited them in his orange and brown flight suit and long white coat, a crooked smile visible through the bushy white fur around his muzzle.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't see it with my own two eyes," Peppy said warmly, his smile deepening as his glasses-covered brown eyes fell on Krystal.

"Peppy," Krystal returned with a tired smile of her own, placing a hand fondly on his shoulder. The leporid wrapped his hands around her and hugged Krystal tightly, a gesture that she returned albeit with a much softer grip and a distant look still in her aqua-colored eyes.

They separated and Peppy looked at her affectionately once more, softly greeting, "Hello, beautiful."

"Hello, old man," Krystal returned faintly, still smiling somberly.

Peppy's whiskers continued to curl upwards as he beamed at her, then he sighed and looked over to Fox.

"Well, we've got a lot to do. You got the disk, right?" Peppy inquired.

Fox nodded, shifting his duffel bag off his shoulder and setting it down on the floor, then reached into the breast pocket of his brown suede jacket and pulled out the silver holodisc in its red plastic holder.

"Never left my side," Fox smirked, slipping the disc back into his breast pocket and picking his duffel bag back up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Krystal's absent visage suddenly focus and observe him intently as he put the disc into his jacket, going vacant once more as soon as she realized he was looking at her.

"Good. Also, Frost will want an update on our progress before we proceed. We'll want to talk about him squaring stuff between us and CorneraCar after what happened to that rental," Peppy informed him, "Aren't you glad you got the insurance on that thing?"

"Yeah," Fox chuckled, smirking, "We'll probably still going to need the CSB to quiet everyone at CorneraCar down."

"The joys and benefits of working for the government," Peppy mused, then looked back at the rest of them, "But before all that, I think we need to celebrate a little! The whole team's back together. We need to show Krystal how glad we are she's here. Then we're off to Fortuna!"

"Then we're off ta' _bed_," Falco muttered, his blue feathers slightly disheveled as a slight puffiness around his eyes became evident.

"Here here," Slippy concurred wearily, his huge mouth curved into a frown and then creaking open in a high-pitched yawn.

Peppy led them through the airlock to the rest of the _Great Fox_, which opened up into a sterile-looking white corridor that they traveled down, passing the doors leading to the ship's armory, the shooting range, the extensive gym room, the ready room, Slippy's personal workshop and Auxiliary Fire and Damage Control before reaching a turbolift at the end of the hall and pressing the call button.

As the door hissed open and they filed inside the cylindrical turbolift car, Peppy's hand went to the button panel and he casually proclaimed, "To the rec room."

"Wait a minute," Fox interrupted, grasping Peppy's wrist.

He looked at Krystal, who stared at him with hollow cyan eyes and a blank expression on her face. If there was ever a time to have the conversation that they'd skipped earlier on the rooftop, it was now.

"You guys go down to the rec room. I want to talk to Krystal one-on-one for a bit. We'll get off at the cabin deck. We'll meet you guys down there," Fox explained.

Peppy looked Fox over for a moment, then nodded, pressing the buttons for deck C, then deck D. The turbolift began to descend, passing below deck B and stopping at C deck, the doors sliding open to reveal a corridor lined with seven doors, three on one side and four on the other, ending in a large chest-level transparisteel viewport out into the starry blackness of space. C and D deck, containing the ship's cabins and the living areas like the rec room, galley and sick bay, respectively, were both positioned below the swan-like neck and "head" of the _Great Fox_'s main bridge but above the forward-facing twin turbolaser batteries, allowing breathtaking views to the limitless expanses of outer space in front of the ship.

"Hey, Foxie," Falco remarked sleepily, presenting his duffel bag to Fox as he began to exit the turbolift, "Can ya' be a pal an' drop this off at my place?"

"Sure," Fox nodded, accepting the duffel bag and throwing it over his other shoulder.

"You're a pal," Falco thanked, leaning against the wall of the turbolift and giving Fox the thumbs-up gesture, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Don't take too long, guys," Slippy pleaded slowly, "We all need our rest."

"See you guys in a few," Peppy smirked as Fox and Krystal exited the turbolift.

The door soon slid shut behind them and Fox turned and looked at Krystal. There was the flicker of something behind the vacancy in her eyes, a kind of electricity that implied much was going on inside her mind despite the blankness of her face.

"Here, we've just got to drop Falco's stuff off at his room, then we can talk for a bit," Fox explained quietly, leading her down the corridor, past the first three cabins before coming to the second door on the right side of the hall and sliding it open to reveal a dark five by eight meter cabin of durasteel floors strewn with scattered clothes and walls plastered with posters of various bands, holofilms and the occasional picture of Falco Lombardi. On the side of the room opposite the door, the wall sunk into a quarter-cylinder recessed bunk, with a large transparisteel viewport out into space. The room had a musky smell of body odor and feather styling wax, especially when one faced the doorway to the lavatory on the right side of the room.

Fox's nose wrinkled slightly as the odor wafted into his nostrils, and he tossed the duffel bag onto a small mound of clothes near a rather clean-looking desk with a closed portable computer on top. As he backed out of the room, Fox spotted several full bottles of liquor resting in the darkness on the otherwise empty shelves in the wall at the head and foot of Falco's recessed bunk. He made a mental note to remember to talk to Falco about the whole alcohol situation, but now was definitely not the time to go snooping in his room.

He slid the door of Falco's cabin shut and faced Krystal, observing a vague kind of fire returning to her eyes. It wasn't quite as intense or as passionate as the Krystal he remembered, but she was beginning to look more similar to her as the night wore on. She smiled faintly at him, though Fox couldn't decide whether it was genuine or forced.

Fox sent a smile of his own back, enjoying the silent moment between the two of them.

"Come on, I want to show you something," he informed her, beckoning her to follow him with his hand.

Fox led her back down the hall towards the turbolift, stopping at the second room on the left and sliding the door open. He pressed a button on the side and activated the glowpanel in the ceiling, revealing a five and a half by eight and a half meter cabin with durasteel floors and grayish-white painted walls. Being the command officer's cabin, Fox's room was slightly larger and had a different layout than the other six living quarters on the _Great Fox_, with the left wall of the room recessed into a larger bunk with a somewhat better mattress than the other rooms. The right side of the room consisted of two doorways, one of which folded in half to reveal a small clothes closet while the other was the doorway to a more spacious lavatory and shower, and taking up the rear right corner of the room was a worn old armchair that Fox had brought from his father's house in Corneria City. The chair was positioned to overlook a large panoramic transparisteel window out into space, which took up the entire rear wall of the cabin from knee-level up. Against the same side of the room as the door was a chair and desk strewn with various instruments and trinkets, some notebooks, a datapad and a closed portable computer, while the durasteel floor was mostly covered by a plush green rug.

Fox escorted Krystal into his quarters, dropping his duffel bag on the floor and leading her to the desk, opening a drawer along the side and withdrawing a long manacle-like bracelet of white gold with inlaid purple swirling patterns.

"Oh…" Krystal remarked quietly, smiling, "I never really expected to see this again."

"Yeah, one of the benefits of the re-tooled _Great Fox_: the cabins were directly below the bridge so our stuff got saved with Peppy when he ejected over the Aparoid homeworld," Fox explained softly, turning the bracelet over in his hands, "We've still got all of your old stuff; I think your staff's in a box somewhere around here, like in a closet or something."

"I've got a new one," Krystal answered, patting the collapsed staff held in the scabbard on her back, "One a bit more suitable to the Lylat System."

"That's an electrostaff, isn't it?" Fox inqured.

Krystal nodded.

"As I said," she replied, "It's something a bit better suited to Lylat."

"Still, you'll probably be wanting this back," Fox said, shaking the bracelet, "At least for sentimental reasons. It's from your home, isn't it?"

A forlorn shadow crossed the vixen's face, and she focused directly on the bracelet, lost in thought.

"Yes," she murmured, "It is."

Fox's eyes softened, his lips curving downward as he placed the bracelet on his desk and put a hand on Krystal's shoulder. She stiffened to his touch, shivering like the last leaf on a dying tree.

"You alright?" Fox inquired tenderly.

Krystal's gaze was still locked on the bracelet, then she closed her eyes and pursed her lips shut, exhaling through her nose. Fox looked down and saw that her hands were gripped together into almost painful fists at her sides, which released quickly. He berated himself for his stupidity, bringing up Krystal's _home_, of all things. Even when she had been with the team originally, Krystal almost _never _mentioned Cerinia. She'd never explained exactly what had happened to it, but there was little doubt that it had been _bad_. He couldn't decide if the shivers in Krystal's shoulders were from sorrow or rage, but he swallowed and quickly changed the subject.

"I'm sorry for what I put you through," Fox said quietly, stroking her shoulder gently with his thumb, "After you left, the whole team sort of fell apart."

Fox hesitated, grimacing. He _had _to do better than that.

_Talk to her like a _person_, not her damned commander_, Fox thought critically to himself.

"I fell apart," he continued weakly, "I almost had to die before I realized how important all of you were to me. I know there's no way I can take back what happened. But I really want to atone, if you'll give me the chance. I want to make things right, Krystal."

The words seemed somehow meaningless to him, and he clenched his jaw shut in silent frustration as he tried to find the way to express how sorry he was. It was hard to sugarcoat the fact that her absence was only due to his casting her out.

Krystal made a small, determined sound, then turned and faced him, her eyes finally meeting his once more. The warrior's visage that he'd seen in the club earlier that night seemed to be gone, replaced by the softly-rounded face, bright promising eyes, and inviting lips of the Krystal that he remembered. Still, he could see that calculating, almost rehearsed shadow behind all of that beauty, and Fox convinced himself that he was just seeing things.

"You want to atone?" she whispered, her eyes blazing like twin blue suns that Fox almost lost himself in, "You can start by giving me something I've gone without for more than a year."

His mouth began to open in puzzlement just before Krystal's hand came up to the back of Fox's head and pulled him forward, forcing his mouth into hers. For a brief split second he enjoyed it in all that it was; the soft caress of Krystal's lips against his, the pure rain-like smell of her fur and the exhilarating feeling of the rise and fall of her breasts against his body as they breathed in unison. Then Fox pulled away, baffled as the vixen's jolting eyes followed him lecherously. So many things didn't make sense about this moment; it suddenly felt very _wrong _for Krystal _not _to be angry with him, even more so that she would kiss him like their year of estrangement hadn't even happened.

In the back of his mind also was the memory of one of the dalianide-induced hallucinations he'd experienced on Temple, in which a vision of Krystal verbally prosecuted him to the point of tears before locking him into an ironclad kiss that culminated in the both of them bursting into flames. It was hard not to draw parallels between that living nightmare and now, and the thought of having another flashback filled him with dread.

"This doesn't feel right," Fox breathed, regarding her sly come-hither smirk with a slight measure of fear.

"It does to me," Krystal retorted in an openmouthed grin, running her tongue along the edges of her pure white teeth, "Maybe I can share that with you."

A tingling spectral feeling spread throughout his body, starting from his head and working its way down to the tips of his toes, a soft breeze of euphoria that chilled and warmed Fox at the exact same time. It was like his senses had been sharpened enough that he could perceive every single individual follicle of his fur. He could smell Krystal's serene, purified scent as intensely as if his nose were buried in her neck.

Krystal's erotic smile deepened to an almost vindictive degree, her gaze inspecting Fox's body like a predator with a piece of meat.

"Do you feel me in there?" Krystal whispered, stepping forward.

Fox finally exhaled, just able to perceive for a moment the sensation of fingers moving across his flesh, almost like phantom limb pain. Krystal had entered his mind, flooding him with the ghostly perceptions of her own nerve signals, so that both of them had some sense of what the other was feeling.

Part of him wanted to back away, part of him wanted to just _talk _to Krystal and find out what was going on with her and how she really felt. But another part of him could only focus on the idea of being with her, being _inside _her again, after so long without her. Even if she _had_ burst into flames, Fox probably wouldn't have been able to bring himself to stop her.

Krystal drew close to him, her knees brushing against his as she put a hand on his abdomen, sliding her palm up his black t-shirt, over his chest, then across the back of his neck. She leaned closer, bringing her mouth up to his ear and running the tip of her tongue around the rim, Fox shuddering in pleasure as the faint slipping noise of her tongue's exploration filled his hearing. Krystal's tongue brushed off at the apex tip of Fox's ear, and her warm breath caressed the flesh of his inner ear as she murmured: "Fuck me."

She pulled away from Fox's ear and stood there for a moment, her intense cyan eyes running over his face with her cool fingers still on his neck and her thumb stroking the underside of his chin. His green eyes wide in disbelief as if he hadn't processed what she'd said, Fox couldn't bring himself to move as she smashed her face into his, then forced her tongue into his mouth. Any resistance or hesitation he might've had vanished as her tongue stroked the roof of his mouth, filling him with the tingling, almost electric taste of her saliva. He closed his eyes and let out a brief whimper as he slipped one hand up the tight muscles of her back, the other hand gently squeezing her ass cheek as a wave of pleasure ran down his spine. He gripped Krystal's tongue with his teeth, sucking on it hard and feeling her body quake in his arms. She struggled weakly to release her tongue from his grip and Fox only sucked harder, sinking his teeth slightly into her tastebuds as he massaged the underside with his tongue. Krystal let out an animal grunt, digging her fingers roughly into his neck as she finally pulled away, tugging on his lower lip teasingly with her teeth before letting go and grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket.

Fox slipped his arms out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor and grabbing her hips, yanking her pelvis into his. As her groin brushed against him, Fox could feel himself rock hard and pressing against the inside of his pants, the mere touch making him gasp as he clamped his mouth back onto hers and shoved his tongue into her mouth. Krystal's breathing intensified, jetting out her nose as he massaged her tongue with his, their mouths warm and wet enough that a small amount of drool seeped out the corner of Fox's lips. She began to suck on his tongue, taking him further and further into her mouth to the point that it filled Fox with equal parts pain and pleasure as she slipped the straps of his holster off of his shoulders, the blaster falling to the ground on top of his jacket. She began to swallow his tongue, brushing the underside with the tip of hers as her hand suddenly slapped to his crotch. Fox broke away and let out a surprised cry as she squeezed, feeling his throbbing member shift around in his pants. Her grip loosened and Fox glared at her with a predatory snarl, Krystal returning the look as she unbuckled her belt, throwing it to the durasteel floor. Fox began to slip off his shirt, only to have Krystal lunge forward and press a hand to his chest, stopping him.

"Allow me," she offered lowly as she crouched down, her aqua eyes almost glowing.

"Be my guest," Fox grinned.

The vixen's fingers slipped one by one into the waistline of his grey jeans as her other hand shoved him backwards against the desk, his hips thrust forward into her face. Her hand slid down his chest and slipped under his shirt, her fingers running over the hard, cubed abs under Fox's fur as her tongue slid into the waistline of Fox's briefs. She traced the tip of her tongue from one hip across his belly to the other hip as her fingers stroked up and down his abdominals. The fingers of her other hand slipped below his waistline, into his briefs and caressed his tip, Fox panting and throwing his head back in ecstasy. Her hands wrapped around the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his body as he raised his arms, catching the shirt in his right hand and flinging it into the wall.

She climbed up the cream fur covering his chest, her eyes burning as she locked her gaze with his and buried her pale muzzle into his pectorals, raking her fingernails into his ribs. He massaged her upper back as she dragged her teeth across his chest, grabbing a handful of azure hair with his other hand and tugging lightly. She instantly bit into his right nipple and he tugged harder, her bottlebrush tail flicking through the air behind her. She began to alternate between sucking on his nipple and biting on it, slipping her hand down his pants and grabbing his shaft, squeezing and pushing her thumb up against the bottom of the head. Fox let out a loud gasp, feeling a frenzied rush between his legs, then gritted his teeth and growled, "Get up here."

Krystal released his nipple from between her teeth, lunging into a deep kiss and sliding her tongue down his throat as her hand released his member and emerged, slightly wet, from his pants. He grabbed her by the wrist and spun the two of them around, slamming her back into the desk and diving face-first into the side of her neck. He nibbled, sucked and licked on the fur-covered flesh, his nostrils flooded with her rain-like scent, so intense he could almost taste it on his tongue. His hands traveled up her legs, stopping briefly to squeeze her buttocks as Krystal moaned hungrily, "It unzips on the shoulders…"

Fox's hand made its way up her back as the other began to fondle the base of her tail, occasionally squeezing or tugging it to elicit a twitch and a moan from Krystal's lips. He found the small zipper that began on the right side of her collar, dragging it across the length of her shoulder, until it reached the end at the diamond-shaped cut exposing her deltoid. His other hand traveled to her other shoulder and did the same thing as he emerged from her neck and pushed his face into hers, tugging the armorweave bodysuit down until everything above her stomach was exposed, her hands trapped by her gauntlets in the suit. As Krystal wriggled her hands out of the gauntlets and sleeves of her bodysuit, Fox shoved his face in between her two hard, firm breasts, nibbling on the flesh between them and feeling her back arch underneath him. He ran his tongue over the heavy firmness of her pale-furred breasts, brushing her tiny nipple with his cold, wet nose and feeling it harden in response as Krystal shuddered. Fox's tongue swept over her nipple and gripped it in his teeth, sucking on it and hearing her pant as the fur around it stood on end.

Her hands finally came free of her sleeves and she dug her fingernails into the back of his head, pressing him deeper into her breast as his palms massaged their way up her sides. He gave one last, hard suck of her breast before dropping down to his knees, taking the rest of her bodysuit with him until the armorweave was scrunched up below her knees, just above the top of her boots. She panted expectantly as Fox's head went between her legs, working one finger, then two into her folds, feeling the warmth and wetness as he caressed her from the inside. Fox looked up at Krystal, watching her navel rise and fall with each panting breath, her fur beginning to become damp with sweat as the curves of her thighs flexed and she began to pinch one of her nipples. Fox slipped one finger out of her, flicking it gently against her clit and watching it deepen in color as Krystal bucked and let out a hoarse gasp. She looked down at him and he met her gaze with a wicked grin before diving into her inner thigh, sucking and biting down on the sensitive tendons. Krystal moaned throatily, wrapping her leg around his head as he sunk his face in between her legs, teasing her clit with his tongue and feeling it slowly engorge as he pumped two fingers deeper into her.

A rush of fluid from between her legs soaked Fox's muzzle with saltiness, and he licked his muzzle as Krystal leaned back against the desk, raising her legs further and straddling his face. Her clit continued to grow larger, firmer, redder, as he squeezed the back of her legs and then the inside of her thighs as his tongue thrust deep into her folds, pushing his nose up against her clit. Krystal's hands flew to each of his ears, squeezing them and fondling them as she trembled, throwing her head back. The inside of her was growing warmer and warmer against his tongue, and he finally slipped out and moved up to her engorged clit, strumming it with his tongue as she wailed and drove his ears with glee. He pumped a finger back inside her as he sucked on her clit, his senses overwhelmed by her scent and her taste and her warmth as Krystal started thrusting her hips into his face, then he opened wide and sucked the whole labia into his mouth and licked her clit again, causing her to let out a rattling gasp and thrash out another burst of fluid. As he backed his head away, licking the salty fluid off his muzzle before preparing to dive in again, Krystal yanked him away by his ears and breathed, "My turn."

Fox rose to his feet and lunged forward to kiss her, only to have Krystal grip him by the neck and throw him backwards into the bunk. He stumbled across the room, landing on his back on his bunk as Krystal wiggled her feet out of her boots and the rest of her bodysuit and traveled stark naked across the room after him, her breasts bouncing slightly as her hungry eyes bore down on him. She dropped to the floor and quickly removed his shoes, hurling them across the room before reaching up and yanking down his grey jeans along with his boxer briefs and tossing them in a corner. She beheld his built, slightly muscular figure, all orange red fur aside from a white patch that extended from his muzzle down his chest and ended at his inner thighs, where his member stuck up towards the ceiling at a sharp angle with his balls hanging tightly beneath it. Krystal lunged down and with both hands on his thighs she spread Fox's legs open, moving in between them until her head reached his waist where she grabbed a hold of his shaft and squeezed tightly as she softly ate his balls. Fox panted lightly as Krystal's hand began to move up and down his shaft, his hand resting on his abs as they moved up and down with each breath, looking down the length of his body to see the frenzied look in Krystal's eyes as she licked over his scrotum.

She rose up and ran her tongue along the length of his shaft, then took him into her mouth and started sucking on the head as she rolled her tongue around the tip. Fox began to get so hard that he could feel the pulse in his shaft and then it got even harder, an almost painful throb between his legs, inside Krystal's mouth. He could feel the fur of his entire body growing damp with sweat, his flesh at an almost feverish heat as his mouth began to dry up, still feeling the spectral euphoria of Krystal's presence in his mind. She pressed a finger against his anus and Fox produced a whimper of protest and awkwardly tried to brush it away. Krystal let out a muffled giggle that vibrated her mouth around his member, her eyes narrowing malevolently as she insistently poked up against his sphincter despite his silent objection. He brushed her finger away once more, only to have Krystal violently tug on his tail and slide his member deep into the back of her throat, enveloping Fox in a flood of both pain and pleasure that sunk his eyes back into his skull. Krystal took her opportunity and pumped her finger into his anus, causing Fox to cry out in discomfort and protest. She slipped the finger out of him and slid her mouth out from over his shaft, now covered in saliva as she glowered cruelly at him.

"Get up here and let me fuck you," Fox snapped breathlessly.

Krystal smirked and crawled forward over his body, straddling his waist and lowering herself onto him, Fox letting out a gasp of pleasure as he slid into the hot wetness between her legs.

"God, you're so wet," he breathed as she pulled him out and rubbed the head against her slit only to fall back down onto it, sliding him back inside her effortlessly.

She dug her fingers into the toned muscles of Fox's chest and arms, squeezing them and pushing into them, rubbing her hands over his abs and then onto the curves of his pectorals as she grinded her pelvis into his and Fox felt himself go deeper and deeper inside of her. He reached down and stroked her clit with his thumb and she quivered as she rode him, throwing her head back and thrusting herself down onto him as Fox reached up and cupped her breast. He kneaded the base of her breast, traveling up to the nipple and pinching it slightly as he massaged her clit, her shoulders rising and falling at a progressively faster pace as she rode him faster and faster, her folds sucking his shaft deeper inside her as her moans grew louder. The air was thick with both of their scents, their fur matted with sweat as Krystal heaved against him, sliding his cock almost all the way out of her only to slam it deeply in again, his shaft slick with her fluids.

"Hey, not so hard," He urged, near breathless, after an almost painful thrust.

"Oh _shut up_!" Krystal snapped, her arms bulging as she dug her fingers into his shoulders and slipped off him, then pumped herself deeply onto him with an uncomfortable crash of their hips against eachother.

Fox grunted, then reached forward, rapidly flicking her clitoris, making her moans rise to an almost scream-like pitch, then he groaned as he thrust up into her as far as he could go, feeling another rush of fluid from inside her as she released a loud cry and all of her muscles contracted at once, tightening wetly around his cock. Krystal unleashed a deep wail and Fox grabbed her thighs and rolled her onto her back so that he was on top of her, pulling all the way out and ramming back into her and she threw her head back into the mattress and raked her hands down his chest, tightening around him even more and gushing hotly. Fox yelled out, convulsing uncontrollably as he erupted into her so hard that he had to bury his face into her breasts to muffle the shouts the orgasm forced him to make.

#(!Line* * * * *Line!)#

They both breathed together in sweaty embrace, Fox still inside her for a moment before slipping out of her with a gasp and rolling onto his back, soaked in sweat, saliva, and various other fluids. As he panted, looking up towards the ceiling, Fox felt the euphoric feeling of Krystal's presence within him fade, replaced by an odd dizziness and disorientation.

The room began to spin slowly around him, his vision blurry as he struggled to sit up, but it was like he'd been strapped to the bunk. Was he having another flashback? This didn't feel like it. This was something different.

Fox let out a groan and tossed his head from side to side, his muscles feeling weaker by the second.

"K…Krystal? Somethin's happen—ning to me…" Fox mumbled, his mouth hanging slackly open.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Krystal's voice replied coldly as he made out her figure moving about the room, gathering up her bodysuit. In the blurred, distorted vision that he'd seemed to be afflicted with, she was little more than a dark shape going to and fro about the room.

"Ar—are you still inside…my head?" Fox struggled out.

"Yes, I am. You should go to sleep, now, Fox. That's what I'd like you to do."

Fox faintly nodded. Now that she mentioned it, he _did _feel like going to sleep. It felt like someone was pulling his eyelids shut down over his eyeballs.

"What are you doing with my jacket?" Fox murmured, but he never got an answer since he passed out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

* * *

An upbeat pop rhythm with a loudly thumping baseline erupted from the sound system of the _Great Fox's _rec room, a high-pitched male voice crooning out, _"Don't be so quick to, walk away! Dance with me! I wanna rock your body, please stay. Dance with me! You don't have to admit you, wanna play. Dance with me! Just lemme rock you, AH-AH, till the break of day!" _

Peppy Hare grimaced at the speakers as he sat on the large red sofa of the rec room, glancing over his shoulder and seeing Falco stirring up a dark, rather cloudy looking drink.

"Does that have alcohol in it?" Peppy investigated, pointing towards the glass in Falco's hand.

"It's a Dark an' Stormy. What do you think?" Falco shrugged, clamping his beak around the straw and taking a sip.

"So that's a _yes_?" Peppy inquired.

"Yeah, it's rum an' ginger ale. It's just a nightcap; what about it?" Falco shrugged, raising an eyebrow towards him defensively.

The avian and the leporid stared each other down for a moment, then Peppy shook his head dismissively and rolled his brown eyes.

"Never mind," Peppy sighed.

"Tha' fuck is up with people today?" Falco muttered under his breath, taking a sip.

"_So you grab your girls, and you grab a couple more, and you all come meet me in the middle of the floor, said the air is thick, it's smellin' right, so you blast to the left and you sail to the right! Don't be so quick to, walk away! Dance with me! I wanna rock your body! Please stay," _the high-pitched vocalist on the sound system continued, prompting a slightly disgusted look from Peppy, who looked over to see Slippy on the other side of the couch, struggling to stay awake.

"Falco, what the _hell _is this that you've put on?" Peppy demanded.

"Yeah, it's more annoying than the stuff you _usually _listen to," Slippy added.

"Hey! I don't diss _your _tunes! Don't diss mine," Falco complained.

"Of _course _you do…" Slippy muttered to himself.

"Okay, so why the _new_ selection of crappy music?" Peppy inquired.

A curving smirk appeared at the edge of Falco's beak, and he took another sip of his drink.

"Just a lil' novelty," Falco shrugged, pointing to the speakers, "_This_ is Justin Jackson's debut album."

Peppy's furred brow wrinkled in befuddlement and he squinted his eyes as he adjusted his glasses.

"Justin Jackson?" Slippy inquired.

"The _QuestForce _pilot? _That _Justin Jackson?" Peppy clarified, to which Falco nodded casually.

"Oh, yeah," Slippy remarked, his eyes widening in recognition, "Their ace pilot; the vulpine. The tacky one that all the girls like, right? Or at least he tries to sleep with one girl per episode or something? Kind of looks like Fox, actually. He's the one with the catchphrase."

Peppy glanced over at Slippy, his floppy grey ears wobbling over his head.

"A _catchphrase_? There's a person in real life that uses a _catchphrase_?" Peppy interrogated skeptically.

"It's a _reality show_, calling it real life is giving it a bit too much credit," Slippy commented, adjusting his cap.

"But yeah, every time QuestForce gets a criminal or somethin', he says "You've been Justified!" or somethin' like that," Falco shrugged.

Peppy's brow wrinkled even more and he frowned slightly, his leporid nose wiggling up and down as he looked off to the side.

"You've been _Justified_? I don't get it," Peppy huffed.

"You know…Just-in; Justi-fied?" Slippy elaborated, "It's like a play on his name."

The grimace on Peppy's face deepened, his brown eyes narrowing incredulously.

"That's _retarded_. They put idiots like _that_ on holovision and call them freelancers?" Peppy remarked, dumbfounded.

"Apparently, he's a halfway decent pilot and he's the most popular person on the show. Even though Miranda Swift is the leader of QuestForce, he's kind of the show's mascot," Slippy shrugged.

"How do _you_ know this?" Peppy demanded, "You don't watch that crap, do you?"

"Amanda does," Slippy returned flatly.

Peppy's nose wrinkled as if he'd smelled something foul, and he returned his gaze to Falco with a puzzled look in his eyes.

"Alright, so _why _do you have Justin Jackson's album?" Peppy probed, leaning back into the couch, resting an arm against the edge.

"QuestForce makes a lotta Liat through merchandising an' stuff, kinda additional income ta' contracts. Didn't StarFox do somethin' like that when Jimmy McCloud ran things?" Falco queried.

"It was a bunch of cheesy toys and t-shirts. Trading cards and other crap," Peppy explained dismissively, "We did it to sort of get the name out in the beginning, but James thought it made us look too much like superheroes. He didn't want us to become too commercial. So what, now you want to put StarFox on holovision?"

"Nah," Falco shook his head, "I was just thinkin, ya know, since Justin Jackson got his own album, why can't I?"

Peppy snorted, looking back at Slippy with a ludicrous smile.

"You couldn't carry a tune in a durasteel bucket," Slippy informed matter-of-factly.

"Whaddaya talkin' about?" Falco objected hotly, "I'm an avian! We all got awesome voices! An' he ain't much betta' than me, I just figured if Justin Jackson can get an album deal, so can I!"

"Yeah, but Justin Jackson's a _douche bag_," Slippy retorted.

"Hey, so is Falco," Peppy chuckled, and Slippy began chortling with laughter.

Falco's beak pursed closed and he glared at the leporid and the amphibian, leaning back in his chair and sipping on his drink in irritation.

"Fuck tha' both a' ya," Falco grumbled, staring out the transparisteel viewport into space.

"Oh, come on, Falco," Peppy smirked, "You know we were just playing. I mean, you _are _a douche bag, but hey, we still like you."

Falco silently raised his feathered middle finger in Peppy's direction, his gaze still facing outside.

A moment passed in which the only sound was made by the Justin Jackson song coming through the speakers, and Peppy soon grabbed the white remote control, inspecting the buttons for a second and finding the right one before raising it in his grey-furred hand.

"Somebody _please _turn this shit off," Peppy sighed, pressing the button and silencing Justin Jackson.

Merely a few seconds of silence passed before Slippy spoke.

"Where _are _they? I'm about to pass out," the exhausted amphibian complained.

"Hey, I vote we move family game night ta' any time 'cept right afta' we come home from a _gunfight_," Falco quipped, sipping his drink.

"We can at least wait for them to come down here," Peppy shrugged, "Speaking of team bonding time, I think after this assignment we should take another trip together as a team. We just got back together, hopefully we'll have made a few hundred billion Liat. I say that calls for a vacation."

"Just as long as we don't go campin' again," Falco muttered.

"I agree," Slippy chirped tiredly.

"Hey, we can go anywhere," Peppy shrugged, "It's not like money's going to be an issue."

"We could go ta' Argent," Falco suggested, gazing out the transparisteel viewport at Corneria's silvery moon, just visible far in the distance, an island amidst the sea of stars.

"Why would you want to go to the _moon_? It's a shithole," Peppy countered.

"Hey, I had some good times on tha' moon," Falco defended facing Peppy, "Me an' Katt an' tha' Hot Rodders went there all tha' time."

"You can find better resorts and amusement parks anywhere in the Lylat System," Peppy argued, "And you don't have to worry about getting stabbed-"

"Uh, guys?" Slippy announced tentatively pointing towards the viewport, "Something's wrong with this picture."

Peppy and Falco both looked out the viewport to behold a familiar five-engine, vaguely arrowhead-shaped shuttle gliding distantly through space away from the _Great Fox_. Peppy's nose wiggled once again, his mouth opening slightly to expose his long leporid incisors.

"Is that tha' _Pleiades_?" Falco inquired slowly.

"Yup, it is," Slippy confirmed in a troubled tone.

"We need to go," Peppy instructed hoarsely, rising out of his seat and heading towards the rec room's automatic doors.

"I don't get it," Falco called after him, slowly beginning to follow, "Why would Fox just take tha' _Pleiades_ out without comin' down ta' say somethin'?"

"He _wouldn't_," Peppy growled, rushing through the doors as they hissed apart, "That's the _problem_."

* * *

A loud, insistent pounding at his cabin door woke Fox from his slumber, and he flew up into a sitting position on his bunk, wondering for a moment why he was naked. The memory of what had happened before he'd blacked out came flooding back to him, and he smiled softly, looking around the room and wondering where Krystal had gone.

Three more bangs rocked the door to his room, and Falco's voice shouted through the door, "Yo, Foxie, ya alright in there? Get up, bro, we got a situation!"

His eyes darting around to the clothes that he'd worn to Glamorama thrown about the room, Fox spotted the black duffel bag with his flight suit and jacket inside leaning against the wall and leapt out of bed, bounding across the room and quickly unzipping the duffel, pulling out the sleeveless army green flight suit and unzipping it, shivering slightly from the chilly, damp feeling that the cooled sweat soaking his fur now gave him. He spotted his pants and the boxer briefs inside just as Falco banged on the door again, leaping towards them and scooping them up, quickly slipping into the undergarment and stretching out his flight suit to step into it.

"Just a minute; I'll be right out!" Fox called, slipping his legs into the suit, then slipping his arms inside and zipping himself up, grabbing his boots and thrusting a foot into each one before finally unlocking the door and sliding it open.

Standing outside the doorway to his cabin were Peppy, Slippy and Falco, all with the same confused, worried expressions on their faces.

"What's going on?" Fox inquired somewhat breathlessly, looking at each of them for an answer.

"What happened to _you_?" Slippy probed, "You catch rabies or something?"

"Why is Krystal taking the _Pleiades_?" Peppy inquired firmly.

"Krystal's taking the…_Pleiades_?" Fox clarified, his green eyes narrowing in confusion.

"You didn't _know_?" Peppy interrogated.

"It's…it's complicated, but no. I was asleep…" Fox explained heasitantly, his eyes widening in surprise as it all finally dawned on him.

"Do you have the _disc_?" Peppy demanded, and Fox went over to his desk and scooped his suede jacket off the floor, thrusting his hand into the breast pocket and feeling only the bottom of the empty pocket with a stunning feeling of dread.

The disc was gone.

For some reason, he glanced over to his desk and saw Krystal's old bracelet still lying next to his portable computer, untouched and abandoned.


	9. The Goodbye Kiss

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not a mirage. I swear. After a long hiatus, I have gotten over my writers block and am finally back to finishing this story! And it's finish or bust this time, I'm keeping myself to a pretty good production schedule that will hopefully keep the updates pretty regular. As we speak, the next chapter is nearing completion, so this isn't just a fluke. I hope I still have the attention of the readers that have been reading so far and anticipating this new chapter, and maybe by now I've got a few new readers as well. Regardless, I'm happy to present this newest chapter, the beginning of the second act of our story if you will, where things start to get a bit more complicated between Fox and his friends, as well as all of the people in the story he's connected to.

The song featured in this chapter is Florence and the Machine's "The Girl With One Eye", modified a bit as "The Boy With One Eye" by Morgan DeVayne.

And with that, promising you'll get the next update soon, please enjoy and review!

* * *

**-The Goodbye Kiss-**

The StarFox Team bolted down the short hallway of B Deck, their fatigue abated by the urgency of the current situation. As Peppy led them towards the main double doors of the _Great Fox_'s bridge, Fox adjusted himself inside his white pilot's jacket and tried to smooth down the disheveled, sweat-drenched fur on his head, ignoring the narrowed glances from Falco's avian eyes as he walked close behind.

Sweeping under a bright glowpanel in the cool, white hallway, Slippy looked over to Peppy and inquired softly, "Why didn't ROB alert us that Krystal was taking the _Pleiades _without clearance? We didn't get a warning or anything; he _had _to know…"

"Had ta' know? What about help? She'd hafta be a hell of a pilot ta' back that thing safely outta tha' landing bay without guidance," Falco muttered, popping a yellow caffeine tablet into his mouth and gulping it down as their boots tapped against the polished metal floor.

"Who said she did it _safely_?" Peppy grumbled, adjusting his glasses, "I'll bet we've got a fair share of dents in the deck and walls to pound out."

"Not me," Falco declined promptly.

"We'll get some maintenance droids on it; we've still got a _few _that work," Peppy dismissed, coming up to the bridge doors, "But I'm with you on the whole ROB thing, Slippy; hasn't he been a bit twitchy since O'Donnell knocked him around on Temple?"

The bridge doors slid apart with a sterile hiss and they entered the ovaloid room, a mass of beeping computer equipment and holographic readouts. Lining the bulkheads were four different computer stations for damage control, engineering, flight operations and radar, each with their own chairs and computer screens for relaying information. When the entire StarFox Team was on the bridge, Slippy was commonly manning both the damage control and engineering consoles, where Falco would occasionally take care of the radar consoles. From these stations, the bridge sank down into a lower pit area, accessible by a central set of three steps, and at the center of the pit was the leather captain's chair with the attached computer display that Fox usually sat at. In front of the captain's chair was a large space in the floor where holoprojectors in the ceiling usually displayed navigational readouts or transmissions from other ships, while further up ahead was the forward curving rail and the side-by-side paired seats for the forward control consoles. The left console took care of communication while the right console was dedicated to helm control and warp navigation, as well as being the USC socket from which ROB could control the whole bridge, and thus the entire _Great Fox_. Up ahead of this was the enormous, v-shaped panoramic viewport of the _Great Fox_, offering a vision into the blackness of space that spanned around half of the bridge.

As they walked across the tough metal floor, Fox couldn't help but notice the way that the rest of the team was just subtly ignoring him, as if trying to keep out of their minds how he could have let Krystal grab both the disc and the _Pleiades_ without him knowing. They hadn't _asked_ him how it happened, but Fox could see that at least Peppy and _definitely _Falco were considering the plausible scenarios that might have occurred. He grunted and tried to hide his embarrassment, looking at the floor and exhaling hard.

"Either way, we're going to have a word with that droi…oh," Peppy trailed off flatly, his grey ears drooping as his eyes fell upon ROB hunched over his station at the forward control console, his metal face buried into a keyboard.

The android's head was facing them with his large bottom jaw hanging slack and the strip of his singular photoreceptor dark and inactive. It was clear that the droid had been deactivated through the external power switch at the rear base of his neck.

They all stared at ROB for a moment, flabbergasted and beginning to grasp for the first time just how thoroughly Krystal had played them. Then the arrowhead-shaped form of the _Pleiades_ glided into view through the bridge viewport, the glow of the five engines already distant and near indistinguishable from the twinkle of the far-off stars, prompting them all into action.

"I've got ROB," Peppy growled, taking charge and marching forward past the command chair, leaning over the android's shoulders and looking back towards them, "Slippy, get on engineering and make sure the sublight engines weren't deactivated, too. Bring us up to full speed; we'll have to manually operate the ship for a bit while ROB gets situated. Falco, I assume you still know how to work the radar station?"

"Yep," Falco nodded, slipping out of his tattered red leather jacket and draping it over the radar station chair, reduced to the black pants and white tee shirt that he'd worn to Club Glamorama as he plopped down and began typing on the keyboard.

"Good, get a fix on the _Pleiades' _position. I'll home in on the tracking beacon and route the signal to your station, that should make it easier," Peppy nodded, digging his furry grey fingers into ROB's neck socket and searching for the power switch. As Slippy took his position at the engineering console, Fox meekly stepped forward and slid into the command chair, watching the glow of the _Pleiades'_ engines as it blasted away from them.

Why?

Why had Krystal done this?

After what had happened between them, the seeming reconciliation in his quarters, followed by the torrid, intense tryst, it made no sense for her to just take everything and run without a word. It seemed to contradict everything she'd said to him, everything Fox thought he'd known about Krystal as a person. Had she been lying the whole time?

Fox closed his eyes painfully and scratched the back of his head, leaning back with a weary grimace in his chair.

Peppy's fingers finally found the power switch on ROB's neck and flicked it on, quickly withdrawing his hand as the droid's cycloptic photoreceptor glowed crimson with life. The android sat up from the keyboard, its bottom jaw flexing up and down as it automatically tested its servomotors with a slight whine.

"**Novell Ultra-Systems Robotic Operator, unit B-64 online. Systems nominal. What are my orders?**" ROB-64 chirped, glancing up at Peppy as its hands actuated with hydraulic squeaks.

"ROB, I need you to plug into the USC socket and take control of the ship again; the _Pleiades _has been stolen," Peppy instructed, sliding into the chair at the left forward control console, his fingers flying over the keys as he tried to establish contact with the fleeing shuttle, "Slippy, how are we coming with the engines?"

"They weren't shut down or anything, we're building up to full speed on the sublights," Slippy called back.

"I got a fix on her; fifty-six kilometers an' closin'," Falco added, scanning the radar displays in front of him.

"**USC coupling secure, **_**Great Fox **_**interface complete. Recommend activating anti-theft slave circuit system on the **_**Pleiades**_**, then maneuvering ship to retrieve with rear tractor beam**," ROB instructed as the ship rumbled just slightly with the increase in power from the engines.

Peppy nodded as the rear of the _Pleiades _began to draw closer, the blue glow of the five engine nozzles becoming clearer as the _Great Fox _pursued. A moment passed and Peppy's head leaned closer to the display screen, his ears twitching as his gaze flew from readout to readout quickly.

"I'm not getting a response from the slave circuit system," Peppy insisted, shaking his head before looking back up at the fleeing ship from the panoramic viewport, "I'm only getting a response from the tracking beacon."

"She must've found the slave circuit and deactivated it," Slippy mused quietly, his mouth wrinkling into a frown.

"We've probably got a pretty clear bearin' on her from tha' main batteries," Falco suggested, swiveling around to the viewport from his station.

"We are _not _shooting at her," Fox finally growled, looking back over his chair at Falco.

"Hey, just a _thought_," Falco shrugged, looking over Fox's disheveled face critically, "But you're right. Wouldn't wanna damage tha' _ship_. An' without tha' disc, we wouldn't find tha' _Xerxes_."

"Okay, how about trying to slow her down with the forward tractor beam?" Peppy suggested.

"Forward tractor beam was on the _old Great Fox_, Peppy," Slippy corrected, "We went with the wing-mounted missile batteries instead on this one. We've only got the rear tractor beam to assist with landings; a forward one for ship capture's on our list of things to install when we get the money."

Peppy scoffed and rolled his eyes, instantly thinking to himself that he definitely didn't have to deal with problems like _this _in the military. He swung back into position in his chair, looking up as the rear of the _Pleiades _drew closer to them. By now they could just make out some of the rear details surrounding the five engines, coming within fifteen kilometers of the vessel. Though the _Pleiades _was much more maneuverable and had far less mass, its engines were considerably less powerful than the mighty sublight engines of the _Great Fox_, which could propel the massive ship to even greater sublight speeds, allowing it to catch up quickly despite the shuttle's considerable head start.

The leporid stroked the thick grey fur over his muzzle, narrowing his eyes at the escaping ship, analyzing it as an adversary, an obstacle, putting aside whatever confusion he had about _why_ Krystal was taking it. Those questions could be answered later, and Peppy could see Fox's inability to put those questions aside and deal with the matter at hand. Regardless of Fox's emotional issues when it came to Krystal, Peppy saw the need to take charge when the StarFox Team's leader was compromised.

"**Currently leaving local space-traffic zone around Corneria**," ROB informed them.

"Okay," Peppy sighed, swiveling around in his chair and staring at Fox, Falco and Slippy, "We're going to try to establish communications with the shuttle, maybe see if I can talk Krystal into surrendering. If I _can't_, I want Falco and Slippy to get into an Arwing and try to intercept her. We're going to fire warning shots, and if she still doesn't respond we'll have to shoot out the engines. Then _Great Fox _will maneuver so that we can use the rear tractor beam to bring her into the landing bay."

Fox noticed with a swallow that Peppy had given no instructions to him, let alone waited for his input. He knew not to object; Peppy clearly knew what he was doing where Fox was still trying to wrap his head around what was going on with Krystal. He had to put that aside. There was no time to worry about how this would affect his personal life. This was a concern of the mission now; he needed to be the leader he was supposed to be.

"We're going to disable our own ship?" Slippy demanded, frowning.

"There's no other choice," Peppy answered, shaking his head, "It's either that or let her get away with the disc."

At that moment, the five engines of the _Pleiades _flared brightly and the shuttle flashed forward into the blackness of space, disappearing into the stars in a blink.

"Ho! She went ta' warp!" Falco called, and Peppy spun in his chair as Fox grimaced and leaned backwards.

"We're still receiving the signal from the ship's tracking beacon," Peppy muttered, scanning his display readouts.

"She's traveling faster than light, we won't be able to track her exact position in real-time, just where she was a few moments ago," Slippy informed, "As she gets farther away, that lag time's going to increase."  
"There's only one place she _would _be going," Fox said quietly, eyeing a bright yellow star through the viewport that seemed bigger than most of the ones surrounding it, "Fortuna."

"Yeah," Peppy agreed, "According to the CSB, she's the one that set up the meeting with the Venomian Remnant; now that she has the disc, she doesn't need us to meet up with them."

"Doesn't she need to give them the pardon from the prime minister?" Slippy inquired, scratching his neck.

"Ya' think that's gonna stop _her_?" Falco retorted, leaning forward in his chair, "This whole damn thing smells like a setup."

"Alright, let's save the theories for later," Fox sighed laboriously, trying to put Krystal out of his mind, "ROB, does that look like where she's going?"

"**Given the current vector plot the **_**Pleiades **_**is following, the course would put it in the vicinity of the inner Triton sub-system**," ROB concurred as the holoprojectors in the ceiling came to life, painting a three-dimensional star chart of the Lylat System in the air in front of the captain's chair, showing a dotted line tracing itself from Corneria, through the hundreds of millions of kilometers of empty space towards the star Triton and the three orbiting planets of Fortuna, Zoness and Aquas.

"How long would it take her to get there?" Fox inquired, his green eyes scanning the chart.

"**At the maximum warp factor the shuttle is capable of, it could reach Fortuna in approximately thirty four hours. This is opposed to the maximum warp factor for the **_**Great Fox**_**, which could reach the planet in approximately twenty eight hours**," ROB answered, looking back at Fox with his cold scarlet photoreceptor.

"Okay, so we head to Fortuna and get there before her. We cut her off and follow Peppy's plan, then we… figure out what to do with her and how to make the meeting with the Remnant. Alright?" Fox proposed, trying to regain his composure and establish some sort of authority as the star chart disappeared.

"Sounds good to me," Peppy nodded, turning around in his chair.

Fox tried not to think about Krystal, about the river of almost contradictory emotions running through him or any one of the hundred questions he had. Instead, he tried to think about the mission. He was good at that.

"ROB, plot a course for Fortuna, maximum warp," Fox instructed.

"**Affirmative, stand by**," ROB answered, his fingers flying over the keyboard of the warp navicomputer controls.

"Warp core spinning up, engines primed for jump to light speed," Slippy called, his bulbous eyes locked onto the screen of the engineering station.

"**Secure course to Fortuna plotted, Fox**," ROB informed him, "**Filing and sending off warp jump record to Commonwealth Commerce Ministry just before we jump. Jump record sent. Ship reports ready to jump.**"

"Punch it," Fox ordered.

"**Affirmative, sir**," ROB nodded, pressing a metallic finger into the large green button on the warp navigation control console.

Fox dug his fingers into the armrests of his chair, prepping himself for the slight feeling of discomfort associated with making a warp jump. As the dull humming of the warp drive coming to life echoed throughout the ship, Fox recalled that calculating, measured look in Krystal's cyan eyes, always lurking behind the innocence and intense passion she'd shown him. He closed his eyes and he could almost see Krystal's, leering at him through the blackness, manipulating him with her wiles. A drained feeling of defeat spread through him, a poison in his veins, spreading from his shoulders down his back, eventually reaching his toes.

She'd played him like some pathetic violin, the _whole time_, hadn't she?

He didn't know whether to feel devastated or furious. He was too confused to feel anything too distinct, let alone think clearly.

In the midst of his thoughts, Fox realized that the process of the ship jumping to warp was taking uncharacteristically long. He opened his eyes to see the field of stars outside the _Great Fox _viewport unmoving and unaltered in their appearance. Peppy, Slippy and Falco were all looking up awkwardly at the ceiling, glancing around in equal puzzlement as the humming sound of the warp engines continued to build. The hum grew louder, then faded into an eerie moaning, creaking sound, before a tired mechanical whine spread throughout the _Great Fox_ that died down into silence.

"…_That's_ not supposed to happen," Peppy mused slowly, his leporid brow furrowing anxiously as his nose wiggled up and down.

"**Warp drive failure**," ROB alerted them, "**Auto-diagnostic non-specific.**"

"Slippy, what's up with the warp engines?" Fox demanded, looking back to the plump amphibian at the engineering station.

Slippy's mouth was open, his bottom jaw quivering aghast as his hand rested behind his large head.

"I—I—I don't know…I did a _full _manual diagnostic on the engines, just like I do before _every _assignment…they're _fine_…" Slippy answered weakly, looking down as his eyes ran wildly from side to side, struggling to think of an answer.

Falco was the first to realize the obvious.

"Awwww, she sabotaged tha' fuckin' _warp drive_?" the avian moaned incredulously, throwing himself back into his seat.

"Shit!" Slippy cursed, leaping out of his chair and bolting towards the doors of the bridge, making a beeline for the turbolift.

Fox exhaled wearily, lying back into his chair and looking up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. Near the bottom of his vision, Fox could see Peppy disappointedly pluck the glasses off his face and rest an elbow on the communications console in front of him, shifting the cream-on-gray markings of his fur as he massaged the bridge of his nose with chagrin. He could hear Falco behind him heaving out of his chair; the avian's black sneakers pounding lightly on the metal floor as he paced back and forth along the outer edges of the bridge. ROB was the only one of them that seemed unaffected, working clinically at his station and retracting the warp jump report to the Commonwealth Commerce Ministry.

A moment passed and Fox sat back up in his chair, a frigid tingle up his spine telling him that he was being watched. From his seat in front of him, Peppy was looking askance at Fox with his soft brown eyes, fingers still kneading the bridge of his nose, his mouth slightly open with an unspoken question on his lips. Fox met Peppy's gaze and his jaw tightened, knowing full well what the question had to be but unaware of how to answer it. He was willing to admit in the back of his mind that he might've been too ashamed to say anything.

Fox could feel the sharp, icy blue eyes of Falco burning into his back as the avian broke the silence.

"Okay, let's hear it: What happened when you an' Krystal got off tha' lift for that one-on-one chat you were talkin' about? How'd we get from _that _point ta' where we are, 'cause I'm a little fuckin' _stunned _that we got duped like we did just now. Do me a favor an' _explain _it ta' me, Fox," Falco interrogated loudly, making his way back and forth along the edge of the bridge like a caged animal.

"There's no point in being abrasive, Falco, what happened happened, just let Fox explain," Peppy chided, placing his glasses back on his nose and turning to face Fox's chair.

Fox could feel both of them looking to him for an answer: Falco fierce and demanding, Peppy composed and curious, both expecting some sort of explanation. He knew it wasn't going to be one that they liked.

Fox took a moment to choose his words carefully, trying to figure the best way to package the ugly truth, licking his vulpine lips before starting slowly, "…It's…complicated-"

"Bullshit!" Falco snapped, cutting him off, "I been hearin' that word too many fuckin' times today an' I'm _tired _of it! Just lay it out straight, Fox!"

"I _just _wanted to show her the bracelet!" Fox barked back, looking away from Falco and lowering his voice, "The one I found on her birthday after she left. I just wanted to show it to her and talk about how sorry I was. What I'd been through and everything. Before I knew what she was doing she…kissed me and I just…"

Fox stopped talking, gritting his teeth. How could he have been so blind?

Falco scoffed and rolled his eyes in indignation.

"Ya' _fucked _her, didn't you?" Falco charged with disgust.

"I just…" Fox replied breathlessly, unable to deny or even finish, feeling the dark toxin of humiliation slide through his body once again as he hung his head.

"Oh, Fox…" Peppy cringed, looking sideways.

"She said she wasn't angry… that she missed me," Fox protested quietly, his own words sounding weak and hollow.

"I don't _believe _you!" Falco barked, "Krystal comes back afta' more than a year as some meat-eating super-assassin an' you think it's a great idea ta' hop inta' bed with her? It didn't strike ya' as really fuckin' _odd _that she'd even _want _ta' fuck ya' afta' what happened? Or are ya' gonna tell me ya' just _ignored _that ta' get your rocks off?"

"Falco!" Peppy admonished harshly.

"It didn't happen like that!" Fox defended, looking back and meeting Falco's glaring raptor's eyes, "It's not like _I _initiated it!"

"Oh, so you're tellin' me _she _came onta' _you_! An' that makes it betta'? You fell for the _oldest_, an' I mean before-time-stone-age _oldest _trick there is!" Falco rebutted, his voice ringing around the bridge.

"I _know _I made a mistake, everyone does and I'm _sorry_!" Fox snapped back, "I know it was stupid, but it's not like _you're_ in any position to make _judgments_!"

Falco's face fell for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he took a step forward.

"Whaddaya talkin' about? What about me?" Falco demanded agitatedly.

"Fox, this _really _isn't the time…" Peppy scowled.

"Nah-uh, old man, let him say it!" Falco burst out, "How am _I _fuckin' up lately? C'mon Foxie, lemme hear it. I'm sure it's gonna make _you_ feel better."

Fox knew it was immature, he knew it was childish and only going to make things worse, but he didn't care. He was angry, at Krystal, at Falco, most of all at _himself_, and all he wanted to do was lash out and stop feeling ashamed for just a few seconds.

"Maybe you might notice it if you didn't have a drink in your hands _every time _you had a free moment," Fox hissed.

Falco's beak opened slightly, his eyes darkening as his face wrinkled.

"_That's _tha' best ya' got?" Falco scoffed, "I have a few _drinks _off duty an' suddenly it's a fuckin' _issue_?"

"You're drinking every time you're off duty! Everyone sees it! Your room's stock full of alcohol, and we all _know _you've had a problem with it in the past! Couple that with the outrageous, even _embarrassing _way you act in public and it's hard not to see a connection," Fox shot back, leaning out of the captain's chair.

"What I _do_ ta' myself is my own goddamned business!" Falco roared, his blue eyes swelling with rage, "I'm thirty years old an' ya' ain't my fuckin' _father_! An' even if ya' were, it's not a problem an' it nevah _was_!"

"You're in _denial _if you think it's not a problem! You think we don't _know_?" Fox snapped, throwing himself out of his chair, staring Falco down, "You think Katt _didn't _tell us about all the times you nearly drank yourself to _death _when you were with the Hot Rodders? You think she _didn't _tell us how you started drinking _again_ after the war and that it's why she _left _you?"

Falco stiffened and his bottom jaw twitched, the whites of his eyes almost glowing as his pupils shrunk. The plumage on the back of his head ruffled and he tightened his hands into feathered fists and for a moment Fox thought Falco was going to hit him.

"Fuck you and tha' fuckin' elk you rode in on, Academy boy!" Falco hollered, his voice piercing Fox's eardrum so loudly it almost stung, then he whipped around and stomped towards the bridge's automatic doors. They slid apart with a hiss and the avian stormed through, still spitting and cursing loudly at Fox.

"I ain't tha' one that just got conned by some nympho-bitch on a payback-trip," Falco snarled as the bridge doors closed behind him.

Fox breathed out, grimacing at his own actions, and then he turned back to Peppy with a ragged look on his face. There was a disapproving wrinkle in the rabbit's forehead and tiredness visible in the brown eyes under his glasses. After a moment of stillness Peppy hunched over and heaved a sigh, his long ears drooping down as he slowly, discontentedly shook his head.

"Even if now were the right time to talk to Falco about the drinking—which it _isn't_—that was _not _the right way to go about it, Fox," Peppy said with his jaw clenched in frustration, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

The old leporid pursed his lips shut and gave him a rigid, disapproving stare from his seat, and it was suddenly like they were both fifteen years younger, with Fox a novice Flight Academy dropout under Peppy's stern tutelage. It felt like Fox had made so many mistakes back to back, with Krystal and Falco, he might as well be the same barely-trained rookie that he'd been back then.

Fox breathed outward and swallowed, meeting Peppy's criticizing gaze.

"I really screwed up, didn't I?" Fox inquired hoarsely, the bridge now feeling uncomfortably quiet.

"Yeah, you did. With Falco _and _with Krystal," Peppy answered bluntly, his words sinking Fox lower than before, "Move on and stop beating yourself up about it."

"Easy to say with _Falco_," Fox muttered, looking off to the side.

"I'm talking about _her_, too," Peppy instructed with an authoritative point of his finger, leaning forward, "Did you really expect her to come back and _not _be angry? That you could just pick up where the two of you left off, after almost two _years_ without seeing hide nor hair of each other?"

Fox sighed and shook his head in refusal, once again berating himself for his gullibility. He'd let his emotions and sentimentality get in the way. Or maybe he'd let his best wishes get in the way, or he'd moved too fast, or…Fox didn't know. He couldn't make sense of it. He still felt guilty for what he must've put Krystal through, but at the same time hadn't _he _suffered too? Hadn't he been through his own hell, filled with loneliness and regret, only to be capped by that traumatizing encounter with Wolf? After all that, did he _deserve _what Krystal was now putting him through? He couldn't decide. On one side was the frigid guilt of knowing he'd cast Krystal out and put her through God-knows what, pushing away his friends to the point that he'd almost died on Temple. On the other was the simmering hurt and anger at what she'd done to him, how she'd led him along with her soft words and alluring glances only to steal from him, sabotage his ship and leave without a word. Rather than cancel each other out, there was a storm of opposites whirling within Fox, confusing and dominating his senses until he couldn't think straight.

"Then think of it this way: You've got some stuff to work out with her, just like you originally thought you would. It might be worse than you thought it would be, but hey, you'll have a chance to work that out," Peppy instructed, shrugging.

"Worse than I _thought_?" Fox demanded, "She stole our shit and sabotaged the warp drive."

"You know, Fox, that's the _one _thing I realize you never really got. Even though Vivian took care of you when your father and I were on assignment and you grew up with Luce, you never really got to see how females work. I mean, from what I hear about your Academy days, you could get in their pants fine enough, but you never really saw them at their worst. Krystal was your first girlfriend, right?" Peppy inquired.

"I had a few girlfriends in school. There was Fara back at the Academy, but it wasn't serious. Bill said she tried to sleep with him after I dropped out," Fox offered, scratching behind his ear as his bushy tail twitched slowly to the right.

Peppy waved a hand dismissively, "So yeah, Krystal was your first. And you were her knight in shining armor. She worshipped you. You guys didn't really fight that much did you?"

"No," Fox answered slowly.

"Welcome to girl-world, Fox. You ever hear that proverb, "Hell hath no fury like a female scorned"? It's true," Peppy answered flatly, "One time, Vivian and I had this fight over…I can't remember what, I think she thought I was cheating on her or something; James had me tail this suspect we were tracking in Corneria City for a few nights and I couldn't tell her where I was going. I came back and she'd taken all of the doors off the hinges, cut a hole in every undergarment I had, and charged over a thousand Liat on my credit chip. She took Lucy and went to stay with her mother, and left me a note with the words 'No secrets' on it. She wouldn't come back until I'd cleaned the house up and apologized."

"I think this is a little different," Fox said dryly.

"Be that as it may, consider it," Peppy insisted, "She's acting out…in her own way, I guess. Remember, she didn't come from a place at all like the Lylat System. Maybe this is just the only way she knows how. Regardless, it means that she still feels _something _for you. Or else she wouldn't have used up the energy to do all this in the first place."

Fox blinked and nodded, trying to take Peppy's words to heart. Whether or not Krystal was acting out, whether or not she still felt something for him, it didn't seem to make much of a difference. He was still angry. He was still confused.

"So what do I do now?" Fox inquired.

Peppy leaned back in his chair, swallowing slightly.

"Your job," the leporid shrugged, "Help Slippy if you can in the engine room, update Frost on our progress and talk to him about what happened earlier tonight, come up with a plan of what we're going to do when we get to Fortuna. _If _we get to Fortuna. Maybe even get some sleep. Figure something out. You know what to do. No matter what, don't let what Krystal's done shut you down. That's not going to solve anything. Just focus on your job for now, then take care of this thing with Krystal when you actually _can_."

Fox nodded, smoothing down his still-disheveled fur.

"What about Falco?" Fox inquired.

Peppy made a face, his eyebrows rising for a moment as he looked off to the side.

"Let Falco be for now. You know how he is. Give him some time to cool off, maybe wait until we're finally at warp and he's slept it off a bit. Come up with some stuff for him to do and give him his orders, but don't make it _sound _like you're ordering him. Take whatever heat he gives you and find a time later on to deal with the whole alcohol thing. That's what I'd do," Peppy suggested with a slow bob of his head.

"Okay," Fox said quietly, trying to smile as if everything was alright.

"And Fox," Peppy added, giving a soft, crooked grin, "The best thing I can suggest is that you just leave this whole Krystal thing on the back burner. Really. There's not a whole lot you can do about it now, so don't let it get in the way of doing your job."

"I'll do that," Fox answered, clearing his throat and leaving the bridge, making his way through the hissing automatic doors.

He walked down the quiet white hallway, still finding it a challenge to put Krystal and all of the questions out of his mind as he passed the doorways to the war room and then the B Deck head, making his way to the turbolift and pressing the call button. It took a few moments for the turbolift to make its way back up to B Deck, probably after taking Falco down to whatever deck of the ship he'd rushed off to. Though he hoped he wouldn't run into Falco just yet, he figured his chances were slim: knowing Falco, the avian was probably holed up in his room, drink in hand. The turbolift arrived and Fox made his way in and pressed the button for C Deck, quickly descending back down to the living areas of the _Great Fox_ and exiting the turbolift into the short hallway of living cabins on the ship. A glance down the hall revealed the door to Falco's cabin shut tight, a thin band of light underneath.  
Fox quietly returned to his cabin, shutting the door behind him and turning on the glowpanel in the ceiling. The tousled sheets, his clothes still thrown everywhere, the smell of sex still lingering around the room gave him a stinging reminder of what had happened, and he quickly made his bed and gathered up his clothes, trying to ignore Krystal's bracelet left almost innocently on his desk. Tossing the clothes into a small hamper in the closet, Fox once again surveyed his room, mostly devoid of reminders of the encounter with Krystal. As he inhaled, the musky taste of his scent intermingled with Krystal's remained, once more prodding him about his mistake and making him feel like a fool. Fox exhaled hard and rubbed a hand over his face, getting a whiff of the fur on his hand and smelling Krystal's scent on him, like forest rain.

He needed to take a shower. He wanted to wash away as much as he could of his mistake, of the complete and utter fool that she'd made of him. He wanted to erase any immediate reminder of her that he could.

Fox slipped out of his jacket and threw off his boots, then unzipped his flight suit and shed his boxers, striding into the lavatory and twisting the knob of the shower on. Jets of hot water blasted out of the shower head and the room soon filled with vapor, fogging up and distorting Fox's face in the mirror as his green eyes stared back at him hollowly. He stepped into the shower and felt the intense heat flow over him and soak his fur, circling around to make sure every part of his body was wet before thrusting his face into the stream. With his eyes closed, as the water and steam washed away the traces of Krystal, Fox could still see her seductive cyan eyes in the blackness, and he clenched his jaw tight and tried not to think. Even if he was successful in getting her out of his head, Fox could not deny the aching, poisoned feeling that spread throughout his body from his chest.

After a few moments of standing under the shower, Fox shampooed his fur for good measure, then rinsed and twisted the water off. As the streams of water gushing from the shower head went dead, reduced to a somewhat constant drip, Fox shook himself inside the shower to wring some of the excess water from his saturated fur, which hung in matted, soaked locks from his flesh. He reached over the shower door and pressed a small red button on the wall, instantly feeling a toasty, electric heat as the panels of the thermal dryer glowed a bright scarlet in the ceiling above. Fox smoothed his fur down into the usual composed and conservative way that he wore it, feeling it grow progressively dryer and dryer until it was warm and silky smooth. He stepped out of the shower, rubbing his feet dry on the green rug on the lavatory floor before breathing in a gulp of humid air and re entering his room, finding it easier to banish thoughts of Krystal from his head and save them for later. He selected a new pair of boxers and slipped back into his flight suit, boots and jacket, adding his fingerless gloves and red scarf to the outfit. He then strapped his holster back to his hip and thrust his blaster inside, wanting to look presentable.

Fox yanked open a drawer in his desk, then grabbed Krystal's bracelet and put it inside, shoving the drawer closed roughly without a word or a thought, then picked up his datapad and accessed the remote controls to his cabin's holoprojector. He dialed in the contact number he'd been given for Rupert Frost, then set the datapad back down on his desk and strode to the center of the room as the scanning and projection panels in the ceiling came to life. He stood up straight as the sound system came on and the bright green words **Calling: Rupert Frost **appeared in the air in front of him. There was a slight click on the sound system and the words disappeared, replaced by the ghostly image of a middle-aged badger in a black suit, white shirt and black tie. Floating a few centimeters over the head of Rupert Frost's hologram was a read-out of small white letters announcing that he was transmitting from a starship operating on Cornerian Standard Time, which was currently 13:54. Since most ships in the Lylat System, especially Commonwealth-affiliated ships like that of the Cornerian Military and the _Great Fox_ ran on CST, Frost could've been practically anywhere in the Lylat System. Fox wondered if Frost was experiencing the same jet lag he was feeling; after two days in Apollo, he was still running on that time. Regardless of the fact that it was almost two in the afternoon in Corneria City and on most ships in the Lylat System, it still felt like four in the morning to Fox.

"Commander McCloud," Frost began coldly, "I've been waiting to hear from you. We've been getting some interesting information from our Apollo field office. You've got some explaining to do."

Fox wasn't in the mood for Frost's officiousness; even though he'd known the badger for as long as he'd been running StarFox, they'd never been exactly friends. He trusted Frost to do his job and tell him what he needed to complete a mission and stay alive, but he was always aware that Frost saw Fox as a professional associate, nothing more.

"I could use some explanation, too, Frost," Fox replied, "Why you didn't you tell me that Kursed _asked _the CSB to hire us?"

"That's _hardly _on the same level, Commander," Frost retorted, "According to my reports, Club Glamorama turned into some sort of _bloodbath _last night, and then there was a star fighter assault on the surrounding blocks of the city. What the _hell _happened down there?"

"Exactly what you _expected _to happen!" Fox snapped, "You sent us in there _knowing _it was a viper's nest. Turns out StarWolf was all it needed to go crazy."

"StarWolf?" Frost inquired, his brow wrinkling.

"Yeah, I noticed _they _weren't on that list of possible competition we'd run into on this job," Fox chided.

"Our intel showed that they were on Aquas, just a week ago working for the cartels," Frost answered, "We didn't expect them to resurface so fast."

"They resurfaced all over the club and turned it into a clusterfuck, Frost. They're also the ones that brought the fighter," Fox informed him.

Frost frowned and scratched his head.

"We didn't expect this angle. Did you at least get the disc from Bowman?" Frost interrogated slowly.

"Yes. And we met up with Kursed. Thanks for the heads up with regards to who she was," Fox retorted coldly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Kursed. She's Krystal. Like, _our _Krystal."

Frost's frown deepened as he shifted his stance.

"That's… that's unexpected. At least we know why Kursed wanted you guys."

"Yeah, and we might've been a bit more prepared if you'd _told_ us that she'd sought us out through you," Fox fumed.

"I've never met her; you know how this goes Fox," Frost admonished, "These things are on a need to know basis. We didn't know that you needed to know, so we didn't _tell _you. It's not like us telling you would help you guess that it was _her_. Grow up."

Fox clenched his teeth but said nothing.

"We're going to need a statement from you and Lieutenant Lombardi about what happened at Glamorama. We also might need to ask Krystal some questions about what she's been doing as Kursed. I'll get back to you on that. Just send me yours and Falco's statements," Frost instructed, "Are you headed to Fortuna yet?"

"We're just taking care of some last-minute things; then we'll jump to warp. We should be there in about thirty, thirty-two hours," Fox lied. He decided not to tell Frost about Krystal and the disc; better to let him think that both were still on the ship under his control. He didn't want to run the risk of Gillian Morrow finding out and dropping StarFox's contract.

"Send me an e-mail when you reach Fortuna's orbit. Director Morrow is going to want detailed accounts of your observations when you're in the Remnant's camps. We're collecting as much intelligence as we can on the Fortunan civil war. And try to analyze the data on the first disc. It's copy-proof, but you should still be able to get some stuff out of it concerning the access codes for the_ Xerxes._ We want as much data as you can get," Frost instructed.

Fox nodded, maintaining his lie. They _definitely _needed to fix the warp drive, _now_, before the CSB got anxious waiting for them.

"Anything else?" Fox inquired, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," Frost's ghostly hologram replied, "Take care of yourself, especially since StarWolf's involved. Don't let what happened in Apollo happen on Fortuna. We might not be able to help you if you get into trouble down there. Oh, and say hi to Krystal for me."

"I sure will," Fox murmured, "Talk to you later, Agent Frost."

"See you later, Commander McCloud," Frost returned, and after a moment the hologram disappeared and the projector switched off.

Fox swallowed, staring at the space that Frost once occupied. If the issues with Krystal and Falco weren't enough, Fox was also dealing with the fact that Frost and the CSB were _hiding _something from them. They were intentionally keeping everything as silent as possible, telling him only what he needed to complete the mission and nothing else.

What were their plans for the _Xerxes_, for a ship that was both powerful and uncatchable? What about the super-weapon that might still remain on the ship, mentioned during the briefing as capable of creating an artificial black hole? And what of the enormous price tag, the 217 billion Liat promised to whoever could bring the ship back? It was the largest bounty that Fox had ever heard of, exponentially greater than the rewards for StarFox's actions during the Lylat War, the Saurian Crisis, and the Aparoid Invasion. For an assignment as seemingly simple as finding the ship and securing it, it seemed too good to be true. Perhaps the money was both the CSB's excuse for telling them as little as possible and their way of buying StarFox's silence about the entire mission.

Fox was feeling very wary about the true nature of his contract with the CSB, ever since seeing those scanner droids in Apollo that kept an eye on the entire city. Hearing what Bowman had to say about them and the deception surrounding Krystal only intensified his suspicion of just what Gillian Morrow had planned for them.

He shifted his feet and shook his head. He needed to take Peppy's advice and focus on doing his job, on getting the _Great Fox _back into working order and getting back on track with their assignment. It was useless to speculate on everything happening when they were currently stuck where they were. Just doing his job and keeping himself occupied on the task at hand would probably help get himself back in order, so that he could actually deal with Krystal, Falco, and the CSB when the time actually came to do so.

Fox left his room and proceeded into the turbolift, pressing the button for E Deck and feeling the lift begin to descend. E Deck, partially built above and around the large hangar bay on F Deck in the _Great Fox_'s superstructure, housed the primary propulsion and power systems for the entire ship, including the three Space Dynamics FX9 plasma engines, the warp drive and the massive solar ionization reactor that produced more energy than a small star. Just about the only person to visit E Deck was Slippy, who almost single-handedly took care of the upkeep of the complicated systems with the assistance of several maintenance droids on the level, however Fox wanted to know what was going on with his ship.

The lift chimed as it reached E Deck, the doors sliding apart to reveal a gray, industrial-looking corridor with wires, pipes and consoles lining the walls. The glowpanels in the ceiling were somewhat dimmer on E Deck than on the rest of the _Great Fox_, they were still trying to figure out why. The corridor led in two directions, one towards the bow of the ship where the radar and shield generator were housed along with the two main laser batteries, and one deeper towards the stern where the engines, warp drive and main reactor were. Fox moved down the corridor towards the warp drive, eventually passing the entrance to the port-side engine room before coming to a doorway labeled REACTOR/WARP CORE. From inside, he could hear a mix of two voices arguing back and forth, and Fox stepped slowly into a large, brightly-lit room flooded with machinery. Though one of the larger rooms on the ship, the core room was dominated by what it housed: The vaguely cylindrical warp drive of the ship, the size of a maglev train car, occupied a trench in the floor of the room, surrounded by a metal catwalk while the ceiling was occupied by the immense exposed machinery for the central plasma engine, accessible only via ladder or repulsor-sled. Both of these machines were connected by large pipes and wires to the ship's main reactor, a huge grey metal sphere in the rear of the room, which featured five large pipes sticking out of it that led into the wall and connected with the rest of the ship. A steady humming sound from the reactor along with the rumbling sound of the engine meant that one had to shout somewhat in the reactor room, but that seemed to be no problem for the two amphibians on the catwalk surrounding the warp drive. Slippy crouched on the catwalk in his yellow jumpsuit, messing around with a part of the warp drive and occasionally glancing at a set of schematics on a datapad at his feet while Slippy's wrist-mounted data assistant, clipped to the catwalk's railing, projected the image of a female amphibian with bright green, almost shiny skin and blue eyes wearing an orange and yellow jumpsuit. A somewhat large yellow bow was placed on the back of her head.

By amphibian standards, Fox understood that she was quite attractive, however her buxom, pear-shaped form and the fatty, loose-hanging skin typical of her species made her somewhat frumpish when more mammalian body types were considered. From what Fox gathered from Slippy, his wife Amanda was more than a little insecure about her looks. Slippy's parents, Beltino and Beatrix had met Amanda on a star-cruise shortly before the Aparoid Invasion and introduced the two, who began dating and really began to hit it off after the Aparoids were defeated. Fox had only met Amanda a few times before and after the wedding; they never really had much to talk about. She was the chief engineer on a luxury star-liner that operated around the Triton Sub-System and Sector Y, much like way that Slippy was the chief engineer for StarFox. Apparently, one of the ways that they clicked was by sharing professions, but it was hard for Fox to tell from what he was hearing:

"You didn't think of calling the _police _or anything like that? What if Fox hadn't been there to bail you out?" Amanda's hologram demanded, her hands on her hips as Slippy twisted his hydro spanner on a component of the warp drive.

"Then I guess he would've fried me. Even if I _did _have time to call the cops, it's not like they could've scared off Wolf O'Donnell before he shot me down," Slippy shrugged, his back to Amanda.

"You see? This is what I'm talking about," Amanda directed, "You told me that you were going to be the chief engineer, the head mechanic, the fixit guy or _whatever_ for StarFox-"

"That's what I'm doing right now. Aren't you getting the visual feed on your end?" Slippy interjected in a laborious tone.

"Yeah, but you never talked about crossing paths with psycho-killers on a regular basis, Slippy!" Amanda retorted, gesticulating wildly with her arms.

"Isn't that a risk you take, too? There's a lot of pirates active along the _Sakura_'s cruise route," Slippy shrugged, twisting the hydro spanner once more before muttering, "There we go."

"The difference is that when psycho-killers attack, I don't run _towards _them. I hop in a goddamn escape pod and get the hell out of there," she stammered back as Slippy got to his feet and walked across the catwalk, striding through the hologram. Amanda's image shimmered and became distorted for a moment or two before the hologram regained integrity.

"It's a risk that comes with the job, Amanda, and I've been doing it longer than I've known you. Do you _know _how many times we've saved the galaxy? What we do is kind of important," Slippy defended, stopping and examining a part of the warp drive, running his hands over it as Amanda's hologram rolled its eyes.

"So why do _you _have to do it? You do have a wife, you know. A wife who really wants _kids_ someday. Maybe I should give up on turning the guest room into a nursery, since there's so much risk you'll get shot by some random thug. That, and the fact that you won't ever be _home_ long enough to knock me up," Amanda sneered.

"Well, we could always go for _in-vitro _fertilization. That way I wouldn't even have to hear your voice to knock you up; what a joy that would be," Slippy grumbled, his hands grasping around a coil-shaped component of the warp-drive as Amanda let out a high-pitched gasp.

The female frog's mouth remained opened in shock, staring at Slippy's back until he turned around to face her with his eyes lowered.

"I'm sorry, Amy, I didn't mean it. I really didn't, baby, you know that," Slippy soothed, approaching Amanda's hologram as if to hug her.

"I'm just _worried _about you. I don't want to be a bother, but I _hate _being separated like this and I can't help it that I want to see you whenever you're gone," Amanda pouted.

"I know, Amy," Slippy smiled reassuringly, "I'm just a little stressed, that's all. I didn't mean anything by it. I promise, after I get back we'll work on the nursery together. Then we'll work on making a baby. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered.

"Alright, I'm going back to work. You can stay on the line if you want," Slippy answered, wrapping his hands around the coil-shaped component and tugging upwards, trying to free it to no avail.

As Slippy struggled with the piece, Amanda's hologram stared over his shoulder.

"Umm, Slippy?" Amanda piped up, "You have to twist that part to get it out."

Slippy gave Amanda a narrow-eyed look, and then went back to wrestling the component out of its housing. Slippy could get a little stubborn when it came to tech stuff. Fox had seen one particularly volatile argument break out between Slippy and Beltino over the proper way to network the new _Great Fox_'s computer systems after they replaced the one destroyed during the Aparoid Invasion. It ended when Slippy tore one of Beltino's circuit boards out of the mainframe and threw it across the room.

Slippy grunted and tugged on the coil, only for it to remain steadfast inside its housing without any indication of budging.

"That's the sync coil, isn't it?" Amanda chimed, "You have to twist it out."

Slippy's only response was to roll his eyes and continue to ignore her. Fox smirked and began walking around the warp drive, climbing the set of stairs onto the catwalk and approaching Slippy from behind. Neither Slippy nor his wife took notice of Fox.

"Seriously, babe, you have to _twist_ it. Counter-clockwise."

A few moments passed, during which Slippy's grunts became louder and more violent as he endeavored to prove his wife wrong.

"_Twist _it, Slippy!"

"It's _not _like an ST-12 or an ST-14!" Slippy snapped, whirling around to face Amanda's hologram with his eyes wide and his large mouth in a sneer, "It's a _military-_grade warp drive and they don't build 'em like they do on the _Sakura_!"

"Then _try _it and prove me wrong," Amanda submitted confidently.

"LOOK!" Slippy shouted, turning around and twisting the component counter-clockwise on its axis. With a metal scratching sound, the large component came free of its housing in Slippy's hand and he fell backwards into the rail with a grunt. He stared baffled at the component in his hand as Amanda's hologram crossed her arms.

"See? I know more than you think I do, Mister Smarty-Man," Amanda beamed, "I think an apology is in order."

At that moment, Slippy noticed Fox on the catwalk behind Amanda's hologram. Fox gave a brief wave and Slippy grabbed his wrist-mounted data assistant off of the railing and snapped it back onto his wrist.

"I've gotta go, Amy. I'll apologize later," Slippy said quickly, pressing a button on the device.

Amanda's hologram disappeared just as her mouth opened in protest.

"You didn't have to cut her off," Fox said, leaning against the catwalk railing.

"Oh yes I did," Slippy replied flatly, "You ever try to apologize to Amanda? It takes almost an _hour_. She needs to be complimented, reassured and _lied to_ before she lets anything go. You gave me the perfect excuse to hang up."

"Glad to be of service," Fox returned with a wry smile.

Slippy's gaze softened, and he smiled faintly.

"How you holding up?" Slippy inquired.

Fox looked off for a moment, and then looked back at Slippy.

"Trying to keep my mind off it. Ask me again some time. Did you figure out what was wrong with the warp drive?"

"Yeah," Slippy nodded, "Krystal did a number on it. She not only disengaged two of the primary valves on the coolant system, she also tore up the synchronization coil that starts generating the warp field and hacked the auto-diagnostic system so we wouldn't know what was wrong."

Slippy then showed the component in his hands to Fox, revealing the sections where the interlocking coils had been severed.

"It's a clever idea, from a saboteur's perspective. She found a way to work around the auto-diagnostic system so we wouldn't know the drive was sabotaged until the maximum damage had been done," Slippy explained, "By sabotaging the sync coil instead of just flat-out removing it or shooting it, she could hack the auto-diagnostic to register the coil as still functional. So the core spun up like normal. But without the coil functional, the drive kept failing and trying to restart the process. And with the valves on the coolant system jammed, the system kept pumping coolant in to deal with the heat from multiple restarts and the pressure in the lines started spiking. The pressure got too high, so the coolant system automatically flushed itself, and the drive shut down because it overheated."

"Okay," Fox replied, acting as if he fully understood the significance of what Slippy had just said, "So, can you fix it?"

"Yeah," Slippy nodded, "I've already fixed the valves in the coolant system. I'll need to take the sync coil up to my workshop and repair it, then re-install it and bring the warp core back online. Then I'll have to re-fill the coolant system and debug the auto-diagnostic program to get rid of whatever code Krystal inserted into it. Then I'll want to do a quick diagnostic on the drive to make sure there wasn't any damage from overheating or anything else that Krystal may have done."

"How long are we talking about?" Fox inquired.

"About four hours or so. Maybe five," Slippy offered with a slight frown.

"So much for cutting her off before she makes it to Fortuna," Fox grumbled, turning to leave, walking down the metal grating of the catwalk and back down the steps, "Keep me updated on your progress."

"Sure thing, Fox," Slippy's voice followed him as he walked towards the exit, "Hey!"

Fox stopped and turned around to look at Slippy.

"The way I see it, things could be worse. She only sabotaged the ship, at least she didn't leave a bomb or something as her goodbye kiss," Slippy shrugged.

Fox tried not to think about Krystal. He tried to keep his thoughts on the mission.

"At least there's that," Fox agreed quietly, barely over the noise of the engine room.

"And we'll definitely see her again," Slippy offered.

"We definitely will," Fox conceded as he turned and left.

* * *

"You know, Leon? I never could wrap my head around why you watch USBN," Panther commented as he slumped down into a station chair on the _Lone Wolf_'s bridge, a toasted tuna salad sandwich on wheat bread in hand after his journey to the galley.

Leon only spared Panther a slight look before returning to the Unlimited Sports Broadcast Network's live coverage of the octagon game between the Corneria City Dukes and the Tombstone Gravediggers in Tombstone, Katina. The play began and the two opposing teams smashed against each other, clashing shield and baton as the Dukes' runner attempted to get the ball past the scrim line, and IG-N 96 looked up from his USC station at the hologram, scrutinizing it along with Panther.

"**Commentary: I must admit, Comrade Powalski, this does appear somewhat inconsistent with what one would presume to be your interests. Normally, those that watch sports broadcasts do so because they lack the attention span or neural capacity to appreciate more sophisticated programming. This is similarly the case with those that watch reality shows, and yes, I do direct that comment to you, Comrade Caruso**," IG said eloquently.

"Even Wolf doesn't watch sports that often. So what's your story?" Panther yawned, ignoring IG's comment.

"I like the energy," Leon shrugged, his eyes on the game.

"I don't follow," Panther responded.

Leon exhaled and his fingers twitched, then he turned away from the holofootage projected in front of the _Lone Wolf_'s main viewport.

"My father took me to a Gravediggers game when I was a kid. I thought I would hate it. I hated playing sports. We sat down just as the first play began. I didn't even know or care how octagon worked, but…everyone else in the stadium did. I could see them all moving, cheering like one giant organism. I could sit back and let the energy of the crowd just…roll over me. Waves and waves of emotion, like electricity. I could feed off of it, and for once, have some idea of what it's like to be normal. If I pay attention enough to a broadcast, I can almost sense the energy of the crowd. It's one of the few things that I can actually get a rise out of," Leon explained quietly.

"**Interesting perspective, Comrade Powalski**," IG remarked dryly.

"Mff—you never talk about your parents, Leon," Panther mumbled through a mouthful of tuna sandwich.

"I never knew them. I was adopted by a pair of rabbits named John and Martha Powalski at an orphanage in Corneria City, and then they moved me to Katina to start a bison ranch. I guess they were good parents; they said they loved me. Made me go to church. Fat lot of good that did," Leon answered, his yellow eyes glued back to the hologram.

"You don't remember anything about your real parents?" Panther asked, swallowing.

"Bits and pieces," Leon muttered scratching the green scales on his neck.

"Any _juicy _bits or pieces?" Panther quipped, thinking himself quite clever for pun that the phrase made, considering Leon.

"I do have _one_ early memory; I think it's of them," Leon said quickly, "I must've been really young, it's as far back as I can recall. I remember seeing a flash of light, something metal…a scream…and then red. Lots and lots of red."

There was a moment in which Panther couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply bit off a large piece of his sandwich and masticated in the silence. After he gulped down his bite, the moment felt only more awkward.

"Allll-right then," Panther said, "Forget I asked."

"Too _juicy _for you?" Leon retorted, the vaguest hint of a sneer on his lips.

"Let's go with that. I suppose this is why we don't talk about our childhoods," Panther muttered.

"I guess it is," Leon respired, returning his attention to the octagon game.

Panther rolled his eyes and turned around in his chair towards the back of the bridge.

Wolf was reclining in the imposing command chair overlooking the bridge of the _Lone Wolf_, drumming his hands on the computer console mounted on the chair's right armrest. Overlooking his teammates, Wolf only barely registered the conversation between Leon and Panther. He'd never heard Leon mention the memory about his birth-parents; part of Wolf wondered if he'd been telling the truth, but there was no real way to know for sure, so he dismissed it.

The combination of fatigue and boredom of the last few hours of waiting had put Wolf in the mood to listen to Morgan DeVayne, and he lazily called up the music player on the computer console, setting it to play a random song. The warm, sultry strumming of an electric guitar cut through Wolf's ennui like a sunset breeze, bringing a smile to his face as he recognized the tune: "The Boy with One Eye." He couldn't help but think that somehow, Morgan had Wolf in mind when she wrote it.

"Wolf. How long do we have to stay here listening to your music? We've been shadowing the _Great Fox _for _hours_ and it hasn't moved. We practically don't even _need _the sensor jammers active; it's not like StarFox is doing anything. And I'm _tired_…" Panther emoted over Morgan's voice.

"Whine, whine, whine," Wolf grumbled below his breath, reclining back in his chair as the guitar quietly snarled and Morgan moaned: "_I took a knife and cut out his eye…I took it home and watched it wither and die; well, he's lucky that I didn't slip him a smile. That's why he sleeps with one eye open, woah-ohhh-oh, but that's the price he'll pay…_"

Panther did, however, have a point. The original plan had been to monitor the _Great Fox _from afar and follow their course after they warped away, however the StarFox mother ship hadn't moved after the _Pleiades_ warped away hours ago. There was no reason for StarFox to just take the shuttle and warp away to their next destination rather than taking the _Great Fox_. But nevertheless, they remained locked in their position.

"**Speaking of sensor issues, Lord O'Donnell, I've been picking up faint signals of something possibly behind us. It may just be a sensor ghost, however. Just thought you'd like to know**," IG piped up from his station.

"Alright, I've had it with waitin' for 'em ta' do somethin'. We know they're goin' ta' Fortuna, right? They gotta be. The second discs gotta be at Zaius' remnant camp. Let's head there," Wolf instructed.

"Are we planning on cutting them off and attacking before they can get to the surface?" Leon inquired.

"Nah," Wolf growled with a shake of his head, "We're gonna do things a little different this time. We can guess where they're headed now, that's not gonna be tha' case later. We head ta' Fortuna an' keep a low profile then wait for 'em ta' dispatch ships ta' land on tha' ground. Then we go down there in tha' dropship an' attach a homing beacon ta' one of their ships. That way we can track 'em all the way ta' that ship. We catch 'em by surprise at the _Xerxes_. _Then _we cut off an' attack 'em."

Leon smirked and nodded at Wolf's plan.

"**Shall I set our course for Fortuna then, my Lord? Maximum warp?**" IG inquired from his station.

"Do it," Wolf growled, leaning back in his chair.

"**By your command, sir. Oh, and I just picked up that sensor ghost again. Is there anything you'd like to do?**" IG replied.

"I don't fuckin' care. We're gettin' outta here, what's it matter?" Wolf shrugged dismissively. It had been a long night of fighting in Apollo, and they still hadn't gone to sleep. Wolf's ribs were still aching from where Edgar Suchos had slammed him up against the wall of Club Glamorama. Once they were at warp, he would head back to his quarters for some rest. But he at least wanted to hear the end of Morgan's song.

A low-pitched humming began to build up from within the bowels of the _Lone Wolf_, and IG began to count down, his reedy synthetic voice filling the bridge. With a tired sigh, Wolf increased the volume on the sound system so as to drown out everything else with Morgan's voice and the building crescendo of the guitar as she howled: "_I said, HEY! Boy with one eye, get your filthy fingers out of my pie, yeah, I said heyyyy-eyyy, boy with one eye, oh-oh, get your filthy fingers, out of my pie! I said HEYYY, boy with one eye, I'll cut your little heart out…'cause you maaaade me…cry…"_

Almost as if on cue, the engines rumbled and the stars beyond the viewport stretched into long, white strings as the _Lone Wolf _jumped to light speed.

* * *

Drifting through space a mere sixty kilometers behind the _Lone Wolf_'s position, the Roylott Drive Yards Amphibious Interstellar Assault Transport known as the _River God_ did not appear to pose any sort of threat to the Team StarWolf mother ship. Not only was the thirty meter-long ship less than a fourth of the _Lone Wolf_'s size, the concussion missile launchers and the twin laser turrets on the front and back of the vessel were no match for the firepower that the _Nostromo_-class cruiser and its three Wolfen star fighters could dish out. Additionally, the _River God_'s pair of oversized 5G5 fusial thrust engine nacelles, each nearly dwarfing the boat-like main hull between them, gave the ship the appearance of an overpowered, inefficient, and anything but subtle machine.

But, as Daddy had always said, "You're all fuck-ugly, so don't twat around puttin' stock in how somethin' looks."

At least that was how Edgar remembered it.

The _River God _was hijacked by Edgar's daddy while he was being transported to a parole hearing, and flown back home to his brothers when Edgar was barely hatched. Daddy spent years tinkering around with the ship and teaching his boys how it worked. Well, at first, Daddy tried to teach all of them, but Waylon never cared much for learning anything but how to fly it and Edgar just kept getting confused, so after yelling at them some he gave up and taught Joseph how to fix and maintain the ship. Joey was best for learning that sort of stuff, anyway, seeing how he was the smallest and could get his hands into all them tight spaces on the ship and such.

Waylon got it, he just didn't care. Edgar couldn't ever make sense of fancy things like engines or navigation systems. It gave him headaches whenever he tried to. The headaches made him angry.

Daddy had modified the _River God _to have the same strengths as their great crocodilian heritage: The shields, lasers, and especially the engines were very powerful, but it wasn't nearly as valuable as the ship's ability to track its prey, stay hidden and strike when the time was perfect for an ambush. The ship featured a tractor beam that could pull the _River God _towards a larger ship (or the other way around for a smaller one) and a hull breach mechanism that could even nullify a ship's shields in order to cut through the hull and allow the Suchos brothers to board another vessel. Edgar didn't get headaches trying to understand those things. They made it so he could go inside a ship and tear up the people inside. Edgar was good at that sort of thing.

Among the ship's other after-market extras was an advanced thingamajig called an IES that Edgar couldn't remember what the letters stood for. One time, Joey had explained to Edgar that, as long as it was maintained in top condition, the IES allowed the _River God _to "store its generated heat" (whatever that meant) so that the ship was practically invisible to sensors without the need for sensor jammers, which could be detected by a clever enough pilot. Edgar didn't quite understand what Joey meant and it started to make his head hurt, so he called Joey a nerd and threw him down a corridor. He deserved it, using big words like that to confuse him.

The _River God _also had a device called an ion wake spectroscope (Edgar remembered the name of that one because he thought it was funny to say), which he understood a little better. Waylon told him that the spectroscope let the _River God _"smell" exactly where a ship was going as long as it hadn't warped away too long ago, by following some sort of trail that ships at warp left behind. Waylon was good at explaining fancy things like that so he could understand; Edgar liked Waylon better than Joey. He didn't have to use confusing words to show that he was smart.

The glowpanels inside the _River God_ were dim and yellow, the air warm and muggy just like he liked it, but Edgar barely noticed. The silence throughout the _River God_'s cramped quarters only reminded him that both Waylon and Joey were dead.

After Daddy died, Edgar's brothers were all that he had or cared about. Now he was all alone in the universe. The bastard cane and the hairy wolf-trash from the club…it was all _their_ fault. Edgar could only think of the reasonable thing to do: hunt them down and tear the flesh from their bones.

As Edgar stared out the cockpit's viewport at the _Lone Wolf_'s main drive engines, his mouth hanging slackly open to release heat, something in his head screamed at him to board the unsuspecting ship. Stalk them through the bulkheads. Make them afraid as they smelled his breath. Tear them. Slash them. Rip them to chunks. Devour them. Fill your belly. Take your revenge. _Feed._

Edgar struggled to remind himself why this was _not _a good idea. It was hard work.

Waylon mentioned something about a ship. A ship full of riches. A ship that would make the galaxy quake in fear of their power. Waylon's plan had been to grab the one called Kursed at the club and force him to show them the way to the ship, then kill Kursed for the bounty on his head. The plan also called for them to kill anyone that got in their way, but all of Waylon's plans called for that. If they somehow missed Kursed, they were going to follow whoever was helping Kursed until they led them to the ship, and then kill Kursed for the bounty on his head along with whoever was helping him and anyone else that got in the way. Waylon would've wanted Edgar to get what they were after, not just get revenge.

Edgar wanted to do what Waylon and Joey would've wanted. He wanted his brothers to live on through him. But Edgar wasn't good like they were; it was maddening to just watch the _Lone Wolf_, knowing that the one that killed Waylon was inside. He had to wait. He had to.

Why did he have to wait?

Edgar couldn't remember at first. After he did, he explained it to himself out loud:

"The wolf is following the fox. The fox is following Kursed. Kursed will go to the ship. Follow the wolf, and get to the ship. Kill the wolf. Kill the fox. Kill Kursed. Take the ship. Make brothers proud," Edgar explained to himself, slowly, his guttural voice rumbling around the cockpit.

If he boarded the ship now, he reminded himself, he would only kill the wolf. He wanted a lot more than that.

The _Lone Wolf_'s engines suddenly flared and the ship shot forward into the darkness of space, winking out of Edgar's sight. He gasped slightly as holographic displays appeared and readout screens began to flash with data, only adding to his confusion. His head darted from readout to readout and screen to screen, trying to understand but it was all flashing and it was hard to read all of the words and the information was _always changing_, and Edgar could feel himself getting a headache. He started breathing harder, he wanted the machines to stop and just _make sense_ but they didn't and his head was really hurting, starting to make him angry. His clawed hands began to tremble and he gritted his teeth; he hated the _stupid _computers for confusing him and making everything so hard. Edgar's tail began to wriggle underneath him in the chair, making him even more uncomfortable and the machines just _wouldn't stop_ confusing him, and he let out a deep growl through his jaws.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Edgar bellowed, leaping out of his chair and raising his hands above his head to bring them down on the controls. As he was just about to smash the controls, his thick tail swiped into the side of a bulkhead, slamming into the durasteel plating and sending a spike of pain up his spine. Edgar let out another anguished roar and turned around looking for something to hit.

When he found nothing, the moment of confusion allowed him to collect himself and calm down. The headache faded away like morning fog.

Edgar turned back to the beeping controls, still unable to make sense of them, and looked through the viewport at the empty field of stars where the _Lone Wolf _once was.

The ship was already unimaginably far away and getting further by the second. No amount of screaming at the controls was going to change that; that little he understood. He needed to figure out how to make the _River God _follow the ship. Waylon and Joey always did that stuff. They knew how to make the ship work. Edgar wasn't good like they were.

He turned away from the cockpit and entered the living area just outside of it. The room was a cramped mess of crumpled food containers, soiled clothes, forgotten snack foods and stacks of synthetic hypersteriod patches, with three hammocks haphazardly attached to the pipes in the ceiling. Edgar could smell both of his brothers in the room, very much still with him. The humidity in the air circulating around the ship, coupled with the amount of time that had passed since the shootout at the club, meant that the whole interior of the _River God _smelled of Waylon and Joseph.

This was probably due to the fact that their corpses were lying side by side on a large table in the center of the living area.

Though it was less than a day since they had died, the humidity and temperature inside the ship magnified the stench of early decay, especially coming from the multiple slashes and burns on Waylon's face. Anyone but Edgar likely would've been floored by the smell, but he couldn't just leave them at the club for the scavengers to feast on. They were his brothers.

Edgar slowly walked around the table, forcing himself to look at their faces. He placed a hand on a shoulder of each of his brothers, bowing his head in reverence.

When they were all little, Daddy told them about Maiize, the river god for which their ship was named. While some people worshipped the Krazoa, others worshipped a goddess called Lyla and most others worshipped nothing at all, their people had worshipped Maiize for longer than anyone could remember. Maiize was the river and the spirit of all crocodilians, who gave birth to their people. The legend held that Maiize sacrificed his wife Faiyum to the river to make sure that it would always flow full of life, but before surrendering her body to the waters he ate her heart so that her soul would live on through him. Maiize then regurgitated a cluster of eggs onto the ground, which were Faiyum's children and the earliest ancestors of the modern crocodilians. Life was a never ending process of sacrifice and consumption; to gain something, one must lose something first. Much as eating Faiyum's heart allowed her soul to live on in Maiize, the eating of prey was good for both parties: the prey would live on inside the predator, and the predator would get the strength of his prey. Crocodilians lived this way for thousands of years, and most continued to live this way.

Edgar squeezed Joey and Waylon's shoulders, and he thought of Maiize and Faiyum. He thought of how he'd lost his brothers, and how it was his job to avenge their loss. He thought of how hard that would be without Joey's skilled hands or Waylon's smarts. Edgar just wasn't good like they were.

He wanted to do what Joey and Waylon would've wanted. He wanted his brothers to live on through him.

Edgar set an antique saw, knife and hammer down on the table, looking down one last time at his brother's whole and untouched bodies. He hesitated for just a second, wondering whether or not Joey or Waylon would've wanted this. Edgar knew that they would've wanted to live on in him, so that they could pass down the river of life together when Edgar's time came. And Edgar knew that he needed his brothers' talents to avenge their deaths. And after all, he was _so _hungry.

It was so hard for him to think when he was hungry.

Edgar picked up the saw in one hand and the knife in the other, walking around the table so that he was closest to Joey. It would be easy to get what he needed from Joey. He'd need the hammer, and a bit more effort, to get what he needed from Waylon.

Edgar lowered the saw and went to work.

Over an hour later, Edgar returned to the cockpit, his stomach full and his mind feeling oddly clear for once. He sat down in the seat and wiped a maroon stain off of his lower jaw, then gazed carefully at the still beeping and flashing displays at the cockpit. A holographic display over the main viewport was tracing a long, yellow line through space, with technical data that mentioned vector plots and ion emissions. Edgar struggled through the information until he caught the phrase 'ion wake spectroscope', and suddenly felt proud that he'd memorized the word. The _River God_'s computer had used the ion wake spectroscope to trace the path of the _Lone Wolf_'s warp jump. Edgar looked down at the screen closest to him on the cockpit control panel, with the word navicomputer labeled above. The computer had automatically plotted a warp jump based on the data from the ion wake spectroscope, which would trace the path of the _Lone Wolf_. Edgar again struggled to figure out where exactly the ship wanted to take him, but his eyes caught the word Fortuna somewhere.

They were going to the home world.

Edgar hadn't been back to his people's home world, where he and his brothers grew up, for a long time. Any desire to set foot on Fortuna was tempered by the new, almost predatory focus on his mission. Unless the ship was there, Edgar would only continue to follow them. He would be patient. He would be smart. He would be skilled.

And after all that, the joy of finally tearing apart and devouring both the fox and the wolf would be even better.

He looked down at the bottom of the navicomputer screen, seeing a touch-sensitive button labeled **Execute Jump?**

Edgar pressed the button with a clawed finger and felt the massive engines of the _River God _rumble to life.

"I'm comin' for both of you," Edgar growled, almost smiling, "I'm gonna get you good."

The stars outside stretched to infinity and the _River God _blasted into warp.

* * *

The light of stars and nebulas zipping by at several times the speed of light poured around the ship, so fast that it was impossible to take any single feature in; it was as futile as trying to watch a single raindrop in a downpour. Kursed knew that even if she could focus onto a single star flashing past, it would be gone long before she had time to register.

It was said that staring too long into the swirling patterns of light through the windows of a ship at warp could cause motion sickness, epileptic seizure, even madness. Most ships kept the transparisteel opaque while at warp, especially for long journeys, however Kursed found the stellar light show almost soothing. In the five hours that the _Pleiades _had been at warp, she hadn't left the plush pilot's chair of the shuttle or taken her eyes off of the shimmering warp field through the viewport, even though she felt more than tired enough to sleep. She supposed it was the chair.

It was too soft, too pampering, unlike the reassuringly solid wool-packed cushions she'd used at home.

_Home_, Kursed thought to herself, the word echoing in her head like a dead lover's name. The word conjured thoughts of humid, rainy forests, harmonious halls of sandstone capped by flower-bud shaped towers, a vast blue sun burning in a lavender sky and wisps of incense wafting through windows with lotus-pattern grilles. The mouthwatering smell of ginger and maja fruit, being ground into a fine paste to make kemia salad, mixing with the scent of shisha being smoked from a narghile in the next room. The whispered sutras and prayers of her father, thanking the Krazoa for the blessed day as swarms of glowing blue beetles buzzed through the thick night air.

But that was all gone now, and only fools indulge in nostalgia, so Kursed stared back into the universe as it sped by and cleared her head of images, taking out a pack of Dutta Ebony kreteks and a burner. She slipped a single kretek in between her lips and lit the end with the burner, then put both back into the pocket on her belt as she took a drag of the cigarette. The glowing orange end of the kretek crackled slightly and Kursed breathed the fire into her lungs, exhaling out through her nose.

_You should sleep_, she told herself, _You'll need the energy later_.

It was so hard for her to sleep these days, and Kursed knew it wasn't because of the chair or how smotheringly soft most Cornerian-made mattresses were. Something was eating at her inside, a cold and consuming fire that she couldn't name and couldn't deny that made her _hate _everything she saw in the society she was forced to live in. It wasn't just the holovision voices with their unreal accents and jokes that Kursed could not understand, or the way that absolutely _everything _seemed to have a price, an abstract value that made it all seem so worthless. Even the people that she'd worked to protect not so long ago seemed empty and unworthy of being saved. She was lost in a forest that she didn't understand, wandering for so long that she could hardly remember her own name. The fire inside told her to keep running, far away until she couldn't remember anything from before, all the while cursing everything she'd left behind for the pain of losing it.

Kursed didn't _want _to name it. She didn't want to face it for that long, for all the sleepless nights it gave her. Bringing it into the light would only expose her to more pain. The only option was to dive further into the darkness, until it was all erased.

She sucked down on the kretek, blowing the thick blue smoke out in a jet from her mouth before flicking the ash onto the durasteel floor. Kursed reached into another pocket on her armorweave bodysuit and withdrew a metallic grey holodisc, bringing it up to her face with a neutral look in her cyan eyes. It seemed so disposable and insignificant; it was funny to think about how many people were chasing after what it represented. The CSB, the cartels, the mercenaries, they all pursued it hungrily as if the _Xerxes _held some sort of deep, fundamental truth. But they weren't after truth; they weren't after anything substantial or meaningful. No one in Lylat was.

They wanted money, they wanted control and power. They all wanted it, for however fleeting and trivial it was in the grand scheme of things, and they would move worlds if it meant getting their hands on it. They fought and struggled for it like dancers, unaware of their folly in thinking that it was all for the best, that it was all worth it, that it would somehow fill the void within them rather than intensify their lust for _more_. She was able to see the absurdity of this violent quest without being concerned as to what the ultimate outcome would be. Kursed didn't care what happened to the _Xerxes_ or all of its weapons and money, her only goal was to further bury the remains of her past and enjoy the calamity that she had set into motion. When it was all over, Kursed could finally start forging a new life, free from the questions and memories and anger that kept her up at night. She would finally be free of that vulnerable, foolish girl named Krystal.

As she slipped the holodisc back into her pocket and returned her gaze to the vortex of stars in front of her, she glimpsed the logo of a winged fox stamped into the metal on the pilot's controls, but she quickly snuffed out the thoughts that seeped into her head. She took another drag of her kretek, blew the smoke out through her nostrils and did not think of Fox McCloud or the other members of her once-adopted family that she'd left behind on the _Great Fox_. She didn't like the way it made her feel to think about them. It was just as useless to think of that former life as it was to dwell on the far-off memories of her home world.

She flicked her half-finished kretek onto the durasteel floor, letting it burn itself out with the smooth odors of cloves and tobacco. Kursed put her feet up on the control panel and reclined in the too-soft command chair, glaring at the light storm that raged outside the ship.

She had been a different person on Cerinia, just as she had been a different person with StarFox. They were younger, _weaker_ people than her, naïve to the random cruelties and futility of life in a galaxy that had lost all meaning. There was no going back, to that other person, to that other place. This thing, this cursed shadow, it was all that she was now.


	10. Heart of Darkness

AUTHOR'S NOTE: These next few chapters are a bit special for me, given that they take heavy inspiration from a certain book and its movie adaptation, both of which remain favorites of mine. If you're familiar enough with them, you can probably guess what they are by the titles of this chapter and the next one. I also got to experiment with the idea of language in the Lylat System, which I found pretty interesting. There's no real music for this chapter, though "The End" by The Doors was a sort of musical inspiration while I was writing a lot of the jungle scenes. Again, please review, and you'll have a much faster release in the future. Be careful, though: It's a jungle out there. - TU**  
**

* * *

**-Heart of Darkness-**

"All-right, let's do this dance one more time," Peppy muttered to himself from the communications console on the _Great Fox_'s bridge as Fox slid into the command chair.

"Hopefully we'll get more than just a whimper out of her," Fox sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I went over every bolt of the warp drive, Fox; she's ready to fly," Slippy reassured them from his seat at the engineering station. Fox gave the amphibian a curt nod, turning back to the communications and navigations consoles in front of him. The silence after Slippy's comments was almost disconcerting without Falco there to fill it with a condescending remark; the fact that the avian had'nt emerged from his cabin only highlighted that Fox would have to deal with what happened between them soon enough.

_One thing at a time_, Fox thought to himself. The past five hours that it had taken for Slippy to repair the warp drive had allowed Fox to disconnect himself from the confusion, anger and shame that he felt for Krystal's betrayal. It was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but he'd managed to channel the feelings into handling the task at hand rather than letting it sidetrack him. The only way to get answers from Krystal was to continue the mission, and take whatever happened in stride. That included dealing with Falco in his own time.

"Couldn't we just use the orbital gate to get to Fortuna?" Slippy inquired, "We could still get there before Krystal and cut her off when she drops out of warp."

"That's not an option, Slip," Fox explained, "The CSB's paying us so that they don't have to take the blame if anything goes wrong. That means we keep a low profile. There's too much regulation, too much attention from using the orbital gate, especially if we wanted to use our clearance codes to jump ahead of all of the civilian ships in line to use it. If we gated out to Fortuna, the security scans would detect that the _Pleiades_ isn't in the docking bay. If the CSB decided to look at those scans, they'd know something went wrong, pull the contract and we'd lose everything. We can't risk it."

Slippy nodded in agreement as ROB finished entering the navigation data.

"**Secure course plotted for Fortuna, Commander**," ROB instructed, "**Warp jump record sent off to Cornerian Commerce Ministry.**"

"Engines are primed for jump to light speed, warp core spinning up. Everything looks smooth," Slippy reported from the engineering console.

"**Attention all hands, **_**Great Fox **_**commencing jump to maximum warp on a secure course**," ROB announced over the intercom, addressing the entire ship, "**ETA twenty seven hours, forty five minutes. Jump in T-minus five, four, three, two, one. Commence jump**."

A dull, energized hum rumbled from the deepest depths of the _Great Fox_, and the red fur on the back of Fox's neck began to prickle up as his stomach churned and a tingling sensation appeared at his fingertips. It usually annoyed Fox that he would still get jump-sick after all his years of space travel, however this time the familiar wave of slight nausea was a relief, telling him that things were going right. He dug his fingertips into the armrests of his chair as the humming noise grew louder, the ship quaking lightly as the plasma engines came to life. The stars visible through the bridge's main viewport stretched out to form infinite blue and white streaks, and then there was a jolt as the entire ship shot forward into space at faster than light speeds.

A relieved exhale of breath escaped from Fox's jaws as Slippy let out an energetic, victorious whoop, a beaming smile spreading across his large face.

"**The ship**** has achieved maximum warp, Fox**," ROB-64 reported, his neutral synthetic voice tinted with a hint of pride.

"Looks like you saved the day, Slip," Fox remarked warmly.

"Way to go, Slippy!" Peppy saluted.

The amphibian leaned back in his chair and blew on his fingertips with mock nonchalance, still grinning emphatically.

"Well, we've got twenty eight hours until we get to Fortuna," Peppy explained, "I suggest we use that time to get some rest and prepare for what we'll be doing down there."

Slippy nodded and got up from his chair, exiting through the bridge doors as Fox slid out of the command chair and looked at Peppy.

"You want to start making plans for Fortuna?" Fox inquired hollowly, scratching his shoulder under his jacket, "I'll get the intel the CSB gave us loaded into the war room so we can-"

"Fox," Peppy cut off, "You're exhausted. You've been through a lot tonight. Get some sleep, you've got more than enough time."

"You sure? I want to make sure that we've got everything covered so it doesn't turn into a shit-show like in Apollo. I wanna make sure we know how to deal with everything she might-"

"Fox, when I said do your job to keep Krystal off your mind, I didn't mean burn yourself out. The ship's fine, we're on our way, and we'll have plenty of time to sketch out op-plans. Get some rest so you can be at a hundred percent. You'll need it."

Fox nodded, swallowing.

"I just…I don't know if I'll be able to get to sleep. Not with her on my mind," Fox whispered.

"Try," Peppy encouraged, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I promise it'll be easier than you think. Meet me in the war room around zero six hundred, alright? That'll still give us more than enough time to formulate a plan and keep everything together."

Fox nodded again, a troubled look on his face, and made his way off the bridge and towards the turbolift.

When he reached his cabin and finally threw himself into his bed, he spent almost an hour tossing and turning as he struggled _not _to dwell on Krystal, even though he could still smell her on his sheets. The pent-up fatigue finally took hold early into the second hour, and Fox slipped into a quiet sleep. But his dreams were haunted by blue flames, and cyan eyes glaring at him cruelly through the darkness.

When Fox awoke a full twelve hours later, he did not brood upon or carefully consider the Krystal-inspired dreams that had plagued his slumber, instead he went through his regular waking routine, trying to occupy his mind with anything else but thoughts of her. He put on his workout clothes and then took the turbolift down to D deck, helping himself to a breakfast bar and a glass of water from the galley before going up to the gym room on A deck. During the hour-long workout, Fox couldn't stop his mind from wondering on to Krystal, however the anger and frustration that came with those thoughts only gave him more energy to power through each exercise stronger than he'd ever done before. After working out he sprinted back to his cabin, showered off and dressed himself back into his flight suit, boots, jacket and red scarf, leaving his pilot's headset on his desk. He then went back to the galley for a more complete breakfast of eggs and Katinan bison bacon with orange juice, then journeyed back up to his cabin and cleaned his teeth with an ultrasound toothbrush.

Fox then took the lift up to B Deck and met Peppy in the war room, spending the next few hours going over the intel that the CSB had given them on Fortuna and the Venomian Remnant camp. Though StarFox had been to Fortuna before, during their campaign against Andrew Oikonny's Remnant forces, they had never left their Arwings. This time, they would need to be on the ground, and would have to take into account any obstacle that they might run into. It didn't take them long to realize that, due to the conditions and climate of Fortuna itself as well as the political state of the planet, the StarFox Team had its work cut out for them.

The first planet of the Triton sub-system, Fortuna was the home world of the primate, reptile, and avian races and was the most humid terrestrial planet in Lylat. Another sentient race native to Fortuna were the greater felines, which included tigers and panthers that were markedly larger-framed than the lesser feline race of Corneria. Where Corneria's surface was covered by sixty-five percent water, Fortuna was almost a complete 50-50 split between land and sea, one half of the planet covered by an enormous super-continent. The planet's natural humidity and the intricate system of rivers that ran all over the continent meant that practically every land area was thoroughly hydrated, covering the surface with vast, deep rainforests, grassy plains-covered hills and jagged mountains. Even though the planet was the first world of the Triton sub-system to be conquered and colonized by the Cornerian Empire over a millennium ago, several of the jungle regions remained unexplored well into the present day, within which still existed primitive tribes of avians, apes and reptiles (both chameleon and crocodilian) that had never seen a trace of modern civilization. The jungles were also crawling with some of the most diverse, unique and dangerous wildlife in all of Lylat, with several species of apex predators that would happily make a meal out of an average-sized person.

Out of the three sovereign governments in Lylat, Fortuna was without a doubt on the bottom rung, possessing neither the heavy industry and mineral resources of Macbeth nor the military might and high-tech consumer economy of Corneria, relying instead on its food exports, tourism and manual labor force in the interstellar economy. The Fortunan government, formed after the planet won its independence from the Cornerian Empire with Macbeth in the Lylat Civil War, was relatively totalitarian in its authority and heavily segmented by gender and species. The intelligent races of Fortuna had been involved in various speciesist conflicts amongst each other since even before the Lylat Civil War. The current Fortunan government was dominated by apes and felines, and tended to discriminate against other native Fortunans. In the years leading up to the Lylat War, a civil war had broken out on Fortuna between the government and several anarchist, anti-government factions mostly made up of avians and reptiles. Among the first military actions of the Venomian Empire included aiding the Fortunan government in suppressing and exterminating the rebels, and in fact Fortuna was the only planet in Lylat that Venom did _not _actively seek to conquer in its heyday. After Venom's defeat, the Fortunan government gave asylum to the fleeing remnants of the Venomian Army, harboring thousands of people directly responsible for the war's worst atrocities. In the years since the war, the Venomian Remnant became unofficial allies of the Fortunan government, fighting against the rebel factions with the same guerilla tactics that they used against the government. When StarFox defeated Andrew Oikonny's faction before the Aparoid Invasion, the Remnant was essentially gutted of some of its most powerful ships and personnel. In the two years since, the left over forces of the Remnant commanded by General Maximilian Zaius managed to rebuild and fortify themselves at least enough to prevent any of the rebel factions from claiming major victories over the government.

The location of the Venomian Remnant base was deep within the Kongis jungle region, a dense and directionless rainforest a hundred kilometers from the planetary capitol of Kan-Doltha. Not only was the Kongis a thick and mostly unexplored jungle, it was also regarded as one of the most dangerous regions of Fortuna because of how many rebel factions were based in its depths. The United Fortunan Independence Army (or the UNFIA) and the Vs, the two largest and most violent rebel factions, had an especially strong presence in the Kongis to mount strikes on the capitol.

The difficulties of the operation were compounded: They would not only have to worry about dealing with the Venomian Remnant (which could just as easily keep their end of the bargain or kill them all for the misery StarFox had caused them in the past), they would also have to look out for the rebels hiding in the jungles that would be looking to kill them, steal their ships or both. On top of this, they had to find the Remnant's base in an uncharted jungle crawling with a menagerie of dangerous animals, and if the government of Fortuna were to discover them, there was a fair chance they would be arrested (and probably executed) as spies. And as if this wasn't enough, they also had to find Krystal in the jungles, secure her and get the disc _before _she reached the Remnant. This last part was especially tricky since Krystal had probably visited the Remnant camp before to set up the disc exchange, and they had no idea what to look for aside from some orbital surveillance footage of what _might've _been the Remnant camp.

Fox chided himself for somehow thinking that this whole assignment would get easier after the fiasco at Glamorama. They had merely traded one likely-death scenario for another: While their operations in Corneria's worst city saw them headed into a trap, their business on Fortuna would send them into a _warzone_.

The StarFox Team was journeying into the heart of an immense darkness, and the odds were definitely against them coming out if anything went wrong.

The plan was relatively straightforward. They would use the tracking beacon on the _Pleiades_, which was still sending out a signal to their knowledge, to follow the shuttle to wherever it landed on the planet's surface. Since Krystal had stolen their usual landing craft, the only feasible way to get to the planet's surface would be to fly the Arwings in and land them somewhere they would be reasonably safe. The time that it had taken to repair the warp drive had nullified the advantage of the _Great Fox_'s faster warp engines that they'd originally had over Krystal; in all likelihood they would arrive at Fortuna within an hour after Krystal did, allowing her enough time to enter the planet's atmosphere and not much else. They would have to be prepared to follow her trail through the jungles and cut her off before she reached the Remnant camp. Assuming they were able to catch up with her, the plan was to subdue her and continue to the Remnant camp with Krystal as a prisoner, if necessary. If they didn't catch her before she reached the Remnant, the plan was all but ruined. The Remnant was expecting Kursed, and if StarFox showed up on their doorstep without her accompanying them, there was no reason to expect anything but a hail of blaster fire. Once they had Krystal, they were to continue with the mission, obtain the disc from General Zaius, and then use the _Pleiades _to take Krystal back to the _Great Fox _and place her in the small brig on D Deck. Then they would fly the _Pleiades _back to the surface with Slippy at the helm to pick up the Arwings, and continue on to the _Xerxes _to finish their contract. On the way, Fox would be able to interrogate Krystal and find out just _why _she had done this to them, for whatever reason. When he thought about confronting her and getting answers after so much wondering, Fox's breathing began to increase and his jaw began to tighten.

"You know you can't go down there alone," Peppy instructed, resting his elbow on the large electronic map table in the center of the war room around which he and Fox sat.

"Yeah, I know," Fox admitted quietly with a nod. The jungles were hostile in just about every way, and it was foolish not to bring some backup. Fox also figured that it was a bad idea to face Krystal alone, as reluctant as he was to admit it. Not only was there the chance that his emotions would interfere with what needed to be done, but from what Fox had seen in Glamorama Krystal had become a more than capable combatant in her time as Kursed. Her telepathic abilities, coupled with whatever fighting skills she'd developed, meant that she wouldn't be subdued easily.

"Slippy can't go down there," Peppy reasoned, "Fighting on foot was never his forte. Not to mention that he's even more out of his element in the middle of the wilderness. I wish I could volunteer, but…awww hell, let's face it. I'm not exactly in peak condition anymore. I'm pushing the limits when I'm piloting an Arwing at my age, and this _gut _doesn't really help, either. Still a good shot, but you're going to need more than _that _down there."

"I know what you're getting at," Fox conceded, exhaling and leaning back in his chair.

"You're going to have to talk to him."

"With everything going on, I don't even know where to _start _with Falco. It just feels like there's too much we should be handling first before we sit him down and have an intervention. Krystal dropped a bomb into our situation, the last thing we need is for Falco to be unreliable. He gets that way when he feels alienated," Fox said.

"Then don't alienate him," Peppy shrugged, "Don't be confrontational. Just tell him what we need him to do, and leave the drinking thing for later. You'll probably have to do a little bit of ass-kissing or at least take some heat from him, but do what you need to do. Falco's got a fragile ego, but he's quick to rebound. Get him on your side. Out of all of us, _you're _the one he listens to most. That's why you piss him off so easy."

"If he listens to me the most, that's probably why we're having so many problems with him," Fox smirked cynically.

"Don't sell yourself short," Peppy growled, pointing at him.

"Hard not to, with all that's happened lately."

"People screw up. Even the ones that have saved the galaxy a few times are bound to make some bad choices down the line. It doesn't have to define you as long as you never give in," Peppy instructed, his brown eyes as hard as stone.

Fox nodded, suppressing a roll of his eyes.

"Alright, you better go get Falco and get it over with. We're about seven and a half hours out from Fortuna still; that gives us plenty of time to prep the Arwings for launch, gather supplies and have a bite to eat. It also gives Falco some time to sober up if he's been hitting the booze in his quarters. I'll meet you two in the armory in about an hour; that talk about my gut's put me in the mood for a workout," Peppy said, glaring down at his paunch.

"Even the ones that have saved the galaxy a few times are bound to get old," Fox smirked, teasingly throwing Peppy's words back at him.

"Old and _fat_. Enjoy that body while you've got it; it's going to be a piece of shit in about twenty years. Just you wait," Peppy sneered.

"At least I've still got twenty years," Fox grinned, his bushy red tail flicking through the air behind him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, go on and rub it in my face. Don't you have some tail-feathers to kiss?"

"Look who's rubbing it in someone's face now. I'm going," Fox sighed, getting out of his chair and exiting the war room through the sliding automatic doors.

He made his way to the turbolift and took it back down to C deck, walking down the corridor of rooms towards Falco's door. As he passed the door to his quarters, Fox made a quick stop at his closet to change out his white jacket for the white padded survival vest with the winged canine's head of the Cornerian Flight Academy and Starfleet sewn onto the breast. He'd barely worn it since the mission on Sauria, which had required him to wear something cooler than his jacket. He imagined that the humidity and temperatures of Fortuna would similarly dictate his need to wear something without sleeves. The vest was fire retardant and also functioned as a blast vest capable of absorbing limited medium-power blaster fire, so the choice was more than just for comfort.

Fox exited his room and walked up the corridor, stopping at the door to Falco's cabin. He paused, took in a breath and rapped his knuckles on the clean white door. There was a muffled, confused mumbling sound from behind the door, and Fox looked down to see a strip of light emerging from beneath it. He knocked again, hearing a shuffling from within the room, and then the door slid aside, revealing a slightly bloodshot-eyed Falco wearing a white A-shirt and navy blue sweatpants, his clawed, yellow-scaled feet bare. The avian's blue feathers, normally slicked back for an almost windswept look, were disheveled especially around the left side of his face.

Falco stood in the doorway and just looked at Fox, his lower jaw working over in his beak as his wing-like hand gripped onto the sliding door.

"Hey," Fox finally said to break the silence.

"Yo," Falco returned, his blue eyes hardened disparagingly.

"About what I said earlier…" Fox began, and Falco rolled his eyes and emitted a short, quiet grunt.

"I was out of line," Fox finished.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Honestly, it's something that we've been concerned about for a while," Fox explained, trying not to mention the definite smell of alcohol on Falco's breath or ask him if he was hung over. The avian let out a jet of breath through the nostrils on his beak and he began to softly shake his head.

"But right now isn't the time to bring it up. We've got too much on our plate. And we need you on Fortuna. For now, I just want to say I'm sorry for what happened," Fox explained.

Falco nodded, drumming his fingers on the door.

"Cool. We'll let it go for now. But when you gotta talk ta me about my shit, there's some stuff _I _wanna hear from _you_. Like what was up with that freakout ya had in the club before everything went ta shit," Falco said quietly.

Fox's green eyes widened slightly and his jaw loosened just a bit.

"Ya thought I'd forgot, motherfucker?" Falco demanded, "Just 'cause I got issues, don't mean I can't see _yours_. You got just as much explaining to do as me."

In all that had happened, Fox had almost forgotten about the flashback he'd suffered at Glamorama. Just because Krystal had shown up didn't mean that those problems had disappeared. Falco was right, though, if he was ever going to intervene about the drinking, there was no way to avoid finally revealing the extent that his encounter with Wolf on Temple still haunted him.

Fox breathed out and looked Falco in the eyes.

"Alright. Next chance we get, we sit down and talk this out. Until then, we do our jobs." Fox yielded.

"Fine by me."

A moment passed and Fox looked the StarFox ace pilot up and down, then said, "Peppy wants us in the armory in about an hour. Can you get ready? Dress for warmth and humidity."

"Yeah, sure," Falco nodded.

"Are you in the right… state for an op?" Fox inquired, choosing his words delicately rather than blatantly asking Falco if he'd been drinking.

Falco leered at him sourly for a moment, then bluntly answered, "Yeah. See ya in an hour."

With that, Falco slid the door closed, leaving Fox standing alone in the white corridor.

Fox spent the next hour in the rec room one deck below, absentmindedly trying to find something to occupy his time. He turned on the holoprojector and tried to watch holovision, but what little the _Great Fox _was able to pick up at warp only irritated him. Slippy came down for a snack, but he was preoccupied with a new project in his workshop and only wanted to talk about technical details before leaving to go back to his work. Fox spent most of the hour trying _not _to think of Krystal or of the flashbacks that Falco had reminded him of, which was mostly futile. He was glad when the hour was over and he was able to hop into the turbolift up to C deck to make sure Falco was out of his room on time. As the turbolift chimed and the doors opened up, he was surprised to see Falco standing in the doorway, clear-eyed and with his feathers slicked back like usual, clad in a forest green flight suit with a darker green blast vest. He didn't smell at all of alcohol.

The avian strode into the turbolift and nodded at him, pressing the button for A deck without a word. The doors slid shut and the lift began to ascend.

"So…" Falco trailed off, "Got any idea what you're gonna do when ya see Krystal?"

"We're going to get our disc back, and she's taking us to the Remnant. Whether she's our prisoner or not is up to her," Fox answered, trying to focus on the mission.

"I didn't ask what _we _was gonna do. I asked what _you _was gonna do."

Fox sighed, not looking at Falco.

"I'm not going to let her mess with my head anymore. Past that, I'm playing it by ear."

"Just remember, Foxie: she's not your girlfriend anymore."

Fox breathed, pursing his lips and looking askance at Falco.

"I know," Fox respired quietly after a moment.

"Personally, I'm sayin' ta hell with tha' past. She comes in here and _robs _us, then fucks with tha ship we _sleep _in? The bitch is goin' down."

Fox threw Falco a look, and the fleshy corners of the avian's beak turned upwards in a smirk. The turbolift then came to a stop with a chime and the doors slid open.

The two StarFox pilots strode down the white A deck corridor, passing the doors to Auxiliary Fire and Damage Control, Slippy's workshop, the gym room and the firing range before reaching the door to the ship's small armory. Fox pressed his right hand flat onto the security panel next to the door and the panel glowed pale green for a moment, analyzing the DNA in the fur on his hand.

"**Identity confirmed: Commander Fox McCloud**," the panel said in a synthetic voice similar to ROB-64's, and the door slid open.

Fox and Falco walked inside the slightly cramped room full of weapons lockers and gun racks lining the walls, lit by a single glowpanel in the ceiling. The walls were loaded with blaster pistols, rifles, carbines, and heavy weapons of several shapes and sizes, many of which were in varying states of disrepair. There was also a small locker in the corner filled with special weapons that Slippy had designed for the team, including an experimental personal cloaking field generator (currently inoperable thanks to an ill-concieved practical joke that Falco had played on Slippy involving a bucket of water) and a tactical cryo-laser that could flash-freeze practically anything (including the limbs of the person who wielded it). In the center of the room, bookended against a shelf of weapons, was a wooden work table upon which sat a Ventura Munitions R-3 rotary blaster cannon, a monster of an assault blaster with six rotating barrels and enough firepower to level a small building. At this table sat Peppy, who turned to face them as they came into the armory.

"There you are. Nice of you to join us, Falco," Peppy greeted, his glasses reflecting the light of the glowpanel above.

Falco gave Peppy a lazy, silent salute, and listened as Fox and Peppy gave him the rundown on their plan of action on Fortuna.

"Great, can't wait ta' get down there. Ya' know I hate nature? And this is tha damn _bush_," Falco grumbled after they were finished.

"You're obviously going to need more than just your sidearms down there, with everything you could be up against," Peppy instructed them.

"Then how 'bout we just kick it inta overdrive an' bring ol' painless outta tha' bag?" Falco suggested, patting the array of six barrels on the R-3 cannon, "Betcha could fry half a city with this puppy."

"Not what I had in mind," Peppy remarked flatly.

"We want to be armed, but we also have to worry about the Remnant. If we come in there packing all kinds of heat, they're probably not going to trust us. And, you know, it would be nice if they didn't shoot us on sight either," Fox retorted.

"Weak," Falco teased, "So what are we packin'?"

"I was thinking these," Peppy answered, getting up from his chair and pulling out a pair of ArmsCor Commando 12-S blaster carbines from a weapons rack, setting them down on the table, "Three-shot burst fire, made to penetrate light body armor, and specifically engineered to stand up to moisture-heavy environments. Plus, they're shorter than the average blaster rifle and don't look near as powerful as they are."

"And a _lot_ less sexy than ol' painless," Falco quipped. Both Peppy and Fox ignored him.

"We're going to need something to deal with Krystal, though," Fox mentioned, "Since we're trying to avoid shooting her."

"We are?" Falco probed, the crimson plumage around his eye twitching.

"We still need her for the mission, at the very least. No shooting at her unless she shoots at us first, and we always shoot to wound," Fox directed bluntly.

"Where's tha' fun in that?" Falco muttered, but Fox paid no attention.

"We've got these flashbangs," Peppy suggested, taking a pear-sized grenade out from a weapons locker, "Renders the target blind, deaf and disoriented for a few seconds. But they were made to be used indoors; they'll probably be less effective in the jungle. At the very least, you'd have to make sure it detonates pretty close to her."

"Anything else?" Fox inquired.

"We've got a riot gun that could knock her out, but Slippy said there was something wrong with it, so it's in his workshop until further notice. I think the net launcher still works, but you'd only get one shot," Peppy shrugged.

"I don't think a _net's_ gonna take her down," Falco disputed.

"I'd have to agree. We'll take the flashbangs," Fox concluded. They gathered together their weapons, a Commando 12-S carbine and two flashbang grenades for each of them, then went to work preparing for the mission.

They spent the next six hours preparing the Arwings for launch and generally getting situated for the mission, also having lunch in the galley as a team. When the _Great Fox _dropped out of warp in Fortunan space, they went to work quickly to minimize the head start Krystal would have on them. Fox e-mailed Rupert Frost that they'd arrived at Fortuna and then journeyed with Falco down to the hangar bay on F deck, where they climbed into their Arwings and fastened their headsets to the backs of their skulls. Almost before Fox realized it, he was being shot out of the _Great Fox_'s trapezoidal launch tunnel and into the blackness of space with a roar of powerful plasma engines.

Through his Arwing's canopy stretched the unlimited black star field of space, with the bright star of Triton blazing far off in the distance. Directly ahead was the massive orb of Fortuna, a green and brown ball with vein-like rivers weaving throughout and thick white swirls of clouds splattered over top. Even though he'd seen the planet before, there was something different, enigmatic about it this time as it revolved before him: The planet seemed to be smiling, frowning, inviting, grandly savage, always mute with an air of whispering, "Come and find out."

"I'm at your four o' clock, Foxie," Falco's voice came over the comm., snapping him out of contemplating the enormous globe that dominated his view out of the canopy.

"Affirmative," Fox answered into the microphone on his headset, "Peppy, what's the status of the _Pleiades_' tracking beacon?"

"Slippy just locked on to the signal. She's down there alright," Peppy's voice responded in his ear, "Transmitting the coordinates to your navicomputers. While you're entering the atmosphere we'll pull the ship into orbit over the area and see if we can get some recon data for you guys."

"Thanks, Peppy," Fox sent back, shifting in his pilot's seat and pressing a series of icons on the main console, "Re-adjusting G-diffuser output for entry and atmospheric flight. Executing entry maneuvers."

Fox and Falco's Arwings rocketed into a boost that shot them towards Fortuna, and soon nothing was visible through the canopy aside from the greenish-brown world below. The Arwing began to tremble slightly as the computer console flashed the message 'WARNING: ATMOSPHERIC RE-ENTRY IMMINENT', and Fox called up the heat radiation shield controls on the console and activated the re-entry protocol, hearing a hum of energy as the fighter diverted weapons system power to the radiation shields. The Arwing's speed increased as Fortuna's gravity dragged the fighter downwards, and Fox gave a quick pulse on the gravity brakes to slow the descent.

"Form up on me, Falco, we're taking a pretty steep dive to get down there fast," Fox instructed as the fighter began to shake more violently and a rumbling sound could be heard from outside the cockpit.

"You got-oxie," Falco's garbled voice came in over the comm. as the orange glow of superheated air blossomed around the nose of Fox's Arwing.

He dug his fingers into the joystick, gripping it tightly to make sure that the fighter stayed in a nose-dive position.

The computer locked onto the planet's surface far below, displaying an altitude of 276 kilometers over the surface of Fortuna on his headset's green scouter over his eye. The number was quickly decreasing as the Arwing sped almost 9,000 kilometers per hour towards the planet, the air roaring around the fighter to an almost deafening degree as the re-entry fires turned a bright yellow and enveloped most of his view out of the canopy.

Fox glanced from readout to readout, carefully making sure that he was on a safe re-entry path and that the shields were holding. As he looked up into the re-entry fires surrounding his ship, he felt his fur start to prickle on the back of his neck, his skin tightening almost uncomfortably so. Fox's breathing increased, and his grip on the joystick began to shiver.

He could feel slick beads of sweat beginning to form on the skin under his fur, and his stomach began to churn as if there were a living thing inside trying to escape.

_Keep it together, keep it together. You're fine_, Fox thought to himself, trying to calm his nerves. The last time he'd re-entered a planet's atmosphere in an Arwing was when Wolf shot him down in the space over Temple. He'd fought for his life just to keep from disintegrating in Temple's upper atmosphere, and it was only thanks to his talents as a pilot that he hadn't died in the crash landing that totaled his previous Arwing.

It was hard not to think about that fall from the sky months ago, which only made his stomach spasm even more. Fox let out a groan, squinting his eyes shut and fighting against the flashback that he knew was coming. His mouth flooded with saliva to the point that it was hard to open his jaws without drooling, his flesh feeling tighter by the moment as his brain began to heat up.

_Fight it, fight it, come on…_ Fox commanded himself.

He couldn't afford to have a flashback right now, not during re-entry when a loss of focus could quickly prove fatal. He opened his eyes to see his altitude quickly getting lower as his speed climbed higher and higher to 9,500 kilometers per hour, then 10,000. He was going _way _too fast, but the numbers on the console were getting hard to read, growing fuzzy and morphing into shapes that he couldn't recognize.

He closed his eyes, not trusting them, letting his left hand glide over the controls as his right stayed firmly gripped to the joystick. He didn't need his eyes to know what to press; he'd been flying an Arwing for so long that it was second nature. His hand found the familiar handgrip of the gravity brake controls, yanking them hard backwards for a strong pulse. A screeching roar of the gravity brakes could be heard from outside as the Arwing jerked under him, rocking Fox in his seat.

_Stupid_, he thought. He'd braked too hard, let his fear take control.

He didn't even know what his altitude was or how fast he was going; he didn't want to open his eyes for fear that he'd see something that would completely disable him.

The Arwing blasted through a pocket of turbulent gas in Fortuna's upper atmosphere that threw the ship wildly off of its approach vector, swerving and twisting the fighter through the air. The frenzied chirping of multiple alarms flooded the cockpit and Fox instinctively opened his eyes with a gasp.

The fiery glow around the ship had brightened into a blinding white-hot aura, brighter than the brightest star. He could feel his spine rattling as the Arwing trembled like someone in the throes of a seizure. His skin felt unreal, as if horrible things were slithering and crawling under his flesh, trying to find a way out before they suffocated. Alarms increased in pitch and urgency, a wailing in his ears only just barely audible under the ear-splitting roar of super-heated air pummeling the fighter.

Something was _wrong_.

Fox squinted his eyes, putting his left hand over his forehead to block some of the light pouring into the cockpit, leaning forward to try to see the primary console. His vision blurred for a moment as shapes and colors danced on the computer screen, and Fox forced his eyes shut and shook his head fiercely, feeling his brain slosh painfully around inside his skull. He opened his eyes to see the console finally clear and recognizable, displaying a damage readout schematic of the Arwing from the top, looking down. The right G-diffuser was highlighted red, and the variable sweep mechanism on the right wing was blinking red and yellow.

"What the _fuck_?" Fox yelled, barely able to hear his own voice, unable to understand how the ship's G-diffuser and wing mechanism had become so damaged.

The Arwing began to shake even worse, wobbling through the air like an imbalanced spinning top. He called up a display on the shield systems, watching the console display the message 'WARNING: ATMOSPHERIC RE-ENTRY. HEAT SHIELDS 15%'

Fox's jaw dropped open, flabbergasted, unable to make sense of how things had gotten so bad, so fast. If he couldn't get the heat shield integrity back up to at least 35% or decrease his speed soon, the powerful friction of Fortuna's atmosphere would melt the Arwing into a ball of molten slag.

"TSF-1, _Great Fox_, mayday mayday mayday, I've lost power to my right G-diffuser and my right wing rotator is inoperable. Request immediate assistance!" Fox shouted into the microphone on his headset, wrestling with the control stick to bring the fighter back to some sort of control. All he could hear in response to his distress was static over the comm., the atmospheric re-entry naturally causing interference with the comlink signals.

"Falco! Peppy! ANYBODY! I need help!" Fox yelled desperately, trying to get a sense of his position but only seeing the bright yellow-white glow from outside blocking his view of anything else. Another crackle of static came over the comlink, this time joined with a murmuring sound of what could have been words.

Fox jumped at the possibility of help, shouting, "Peppy! Is that you? I'm in an uncontrolled re-entry dive; you need to direct Falco to form up right on my side and expand his heat shiel-"

"Good ta' see you too, McCloud," a rich, gruff voice sneered over the comlink.

Fox could feel the blood drain from his face with dread at the sound of Wolf's voice. It was what happened on Temple all over again, only this time he wouldn't be so lucky.

"Think fast, Fox," Wolf menaced, then the comm. was filled with the sound of his enemy's laughter, cackling and guffawing as Fox plunged to his death.

His heart pounded in his chest, thrusting against his ribcage painfully as he struggled with the control stick, trying to pull it out of the dive as Wolf continued to howl with laughter in his ears.

"Come on, GODDAMMIT!" Fox roared, pulling the stick up and feeling the Arwing lurch only slightly, wobbling on its axis even more than before.

His hand flew to the gravity brake controls and he yanked on them again, hearing the lurching scream of the gravity brakes against the Arwing's inertia as his face was thrown forward into his lap. He could feel his internal organs being scrambled by the g-forces in the split-second before the inertial compensators kicked in, allowing Fox to throw his head back up and look outside the canopy.

The first thing that Fox was able to process was the relative silence: no cacophony of multiple alarms wailing, no blaring rumble of air friction battering the fighter, no Wolf O'Donnell cackling in his ears. The blinding white light that had been flooding into the canopy was gone, instead the re-entry glow had cooled to an orange-red and had shrunk down to the immediate area surrounding the fighter's pointed, dagger-like nose, allowing Fox to see the vibrantly blue sky above. There was a slight rumbling of rushing air outside and the whistling roar of the Arwing's plasma engines, but these were practically whispers compared to the insanity from before. He quickly glanced out the canopy to see the blue G-diffuser housing as well as the right wing both looking perfectly pristine, then called up a damage readout that confirmed the entire fighter was in excellent condition. When the damage readout disappeared, it was replaced by a screen that read 'WARNING: ATMOSPHERIC RE-ENTRY. SHIELDS 85%'. Currently, his altitude was 75 kilometers over Fortuna, his speed 2893 kilometers per hour. He was coming in a little fast, but other than that, his approach was good. The Arwing was fine.

Fox pulsed the gravity brakes until the fighter was going just under 2,000 km/h and instantly heard a high-pitched roar as Falco's Arwing screamed past, bathed in re-entry flames that cut a swathe of fire through the clouds.

"Too fast for you ta' handle, Foxie?" Falco teased over the comlink, his Arwing performing a barrel roll that flared his shields with a blue-green flash.

"Falco, full brake and decrease speed to point-five Mach, then pull out of this dive and form up on me. Continue descent and level off at two point-five kilometers, then increase speed to Mach one point-two," Fox instructed, breathing hard.

"Fine, fine, party pooper," Falco relented, "That was a pretty bumpy trip down, eh Foxie? Air over this planet's thick as bison shit."

Fox engaged the gravity brakes at full power and pulled up on the control stick, pulling the Arwing out of its nosedive. The brakes screeched and the orange glow of re-entry fires vanished as the fighter leveled off to a milder descent angle, Falco's Arwing swooping in on the left as they sailed down lower and lower through the clouds, going from 70 to 50 to 45 kilometers over the ground in a matter of seconds and getting lower every moment.

There was a low hissing in his ear from the comlink, then Peppy's warm voice could be heard saying, "Everything go alright with your entry, Fox? We got a transmission from you a minute or two ago, there was a lot of interference but it sounded like you were having some trouble."

"Everything's in the green, Peppy. Just had a little false alarm," Fox answered quickly, trying to simply remain calm and take what had happened in stride as he disengaged the re-entry protocol, hearing a hum of energy as power returned to the weapons systems and the shields returned to their default state.

"You sure you're okay, Fox?" Slippy's high-pitched voice intoned over the comm.

"I'm fine now!" Fox snapped quickly, then frowned at his poor choice of words, "Just never mind. I'm looking at my radar display right now and I'm not seeing the signal for the _Pleiades _anywhere."

"Whups, I guess that's _my _bad," Slippy chuckled sheepishly.

A second later, a dot appeared at the top of Fox's radar display, broadcasting the location of the shuttle just as the Arwings reached three kilometers over the surface.

"Accelerate to Mach one point-two on my mark," Fox instructed, gripping his hands around the throttle, "Mark."

Both Arwings blasted through the sound barrier with a bluish-white burst of engine fires, vapor cones forming briefly around the ships as they left the thunderous crack of a sonic boom in their wake.

"Proceedin' ta' target. ETA twelve minutes," Falco announced over the comlink while the two Arwings flew in formation through the brilliant blue skies over Fortuna.

Fox was still catching his breath, the cool feeling of sweat still moist on his fur. How much of what he'd seen had been real? Had it all been in his head? The truly confusing thing was the fact that, for him to have made it this far without running into an actual emergency, it meant that he had to be actively piloting the Arwing on a successful re-entry maneuver _even_ while he was hallucinating. The idea that some part of him was still functioning properly, even while his mind was in the grips of horrific visions, did little to ease his anxieties. If he couldn't trust himself to be coherent while he was flying, it would be disastrous to get into a fire fight.

As he felt his heart rate calm down to a normal level, Fox glanced out of the canopy to get his first look at the surface of Fortuna. The planet looked abnormally lumpy, covered with a fuzzy, incredibly green grass, and after a moment Fox realized that he wasn't looking at the actual ground of Fortuna but its _trees_, treetops as far as the eye could see, stretching off endlessly in a façade of infinite, impenetrable green, the actual surface of the planet a mere abstraction at this distance. The jungle was almost featureless, as if constantly growing and still in the making, with an aspect of monotonous grimness, colored so dark green as to be almost black. Fortuna's sun, Triton, shone a fierce yellow-white in the sky, and the land and trees seemed to glisten with steam, grey clouds of mist blooming just through the green shroud. Every once in a while Fox could see a hole in the shroud, a clearing or the track of a river, but it was no bigger than a pinhead or a crack in the untouched expanse of forest. Aside from these occasional landmarks, it was impossible to get a sense of scale or direction over the verdant shroud below; the only way that Fox knew they were headed in the right direction was the dot on his radar drawing gradually closer to the icon representing his Arwing. Even though Fox and Falco were traveling faster than the speed of sound, with every glance down the surface looked the same, as though they hadn't moved. With everything that he knew awaited him below those treetops, the planet had an ominous, enrapturing quality that Fox couldn't quite describe, the kind of eerie foreboding of a dark and inescapable fate. So much was hiding underneath the shroud—Krystal, the Remnant, the discs, maybe even StarWolf. And as eager as he was to face it, he could not deny a feeling of dread for what was hiding in the darkness of that jungle.

The next twelve minutes passed in a blur for Fox, the featurelessness of the rainforest canopy below distorting his sense of time. He was barely paying attention when Falco came in over the comm., "I think I see it down there. It's a big clearing about a klick ahead. Ya see it, Foxie?"

Fox stared into the distance, seeing a large circular rupture in the green shroud, with a large grey arrowhead-shaped object parked in the center.

"I got it," Fox replied, "Cut your speed and configure the G-diffusers for vertical landing. We're going to have to drop in pretty fast."

He quickly selected the G-diffuser controls on the Arwing's main console, selecting the icon labled 'V/STOL POWER CONFIG,' then slowly throttled down while pulsing on the gravity brakes. A series of short screeches could be heard from the gravity brakes as the fighter's speed decreased, and the two fighters banked downwards with the blue engine flames erupting from their engine nozzles fading to a light glow. The air beneath both of the fighters began to shimmer and sizzle as the ships slowed down to a hover mere meters over the treetops, the G-diffusers almost entirely keeping the fighters in the air. The two Arwings floated over the rim of the clearing, dropping lower and lower to the ground.

"Landing gear deployed…" Fox trailed off, gently guiding the fighter with the control stick, hearing a mechanical whine as three retractable, magnetized landing struts extended from the fighter's undercarriage. He continued to dial down the G-diffuser power, feeling the ship sink lower and lower.

"And…touchdown," Fox murmured as the Arwing jolted, coming to a rest on the surface of Fortuna. He quickly deactivated the flight systems and unclipped his harness, the fighter's engines whimpering to sleep as the console displayed the message 'GOODBYE, FOX MCCLOUD'. Fox slid open the storage panel at his right elbow and withdrew his Commando 12-S blaster carbine, feeling the heft of the rugged black firearm in his hands as the Arwing's transparisteel canopy opened up to allow him to exit. Fox came to his feet and hopped out of the fighter, his grey boots crushing the moss and decomposing leaves that covered the ground. As Falco's Arwing went silent next to his, Fox glanced around at the encroaching rainforest at the edge of the clearing.

The first thing that hit Fox as he took his first few steps away from the Arwing was the air. It was thick and heavy with oxygen and humidity, enveloping him like a tangible thing. Every breath felt refreshing and clean as well as almost suffocating, like trying to breathe through a wet cloth. It had to be more than 40 degrees Celsius.

The clearing itself was practically featureless aside from the three ships parked inside, the ground soft and almost mushy. All around, the dark immensity of the jungle beckoned to them, daring them to brave its depths.

Fox exhaled, already feeling his red fur starting to bristle in the heat and humidity. Falco jumped out of his Arwing, blaster carbine in hand and strode up to Fox's side, the feathers on the back of his head ruffling to release heat.

"Yeesh. Ya' _sure_ we can't just do this in the Arwings?" Falco griped.

"Yep."

"She is gonna be _sorry _she made me hike through this…"

"Remember, don't-"

"I know, I know, don't shoot her. Not unless she shoots me," Falco grumbled, "God_damn_, I hope she shoots me."

Fox rolled his eyes as they cocked the safeties of their blaster carbines and approached the sleek grey form of the _Pleiades _parked across the clearing.

"Peppy, we're approaching the _Pleiades_. No movement so far," Fox muttered into his headset's microphone.

"Be careful, Fox," Peppy came back over the comm., "We're still moving the _Great Fox _over your position to see if we can get any recon data for you. We also just got a message from Rupert Frost. He wants you to notify him when you're entering the Remnant camp. Just give us a shout and we'll send word to him."

"Copy that," Fox replied, "Moving in."

They kept their carbines at the ready, moving into the shadow of the medium-sized shuttle's landing gear. Moving underneath the grey underside of the _Pleiades_' hull, Fox and Falco came up to the seams of the boarding ramp, reaching up to a small panel and flipping it open to reveal a single green button. Fox directed Falco to take a few steps back and cover the area, then pressed the button.

The boarding ramp hissed as it lowered, touching the soft ground as the airlock at the top of the ramp slid open. Falco stood at the ready for a few moments, the green scouter over his right eye slaved to his rifle's sights, allowing him near pinpoint accuracy as he trained his aim on the shuttle's entrance airlock. Fox slowly came to Falco's side, pointing his carbine up the ramp as well, then slowly began stepping up the ramp with a quiet click of his boots on the metal. As he reached the top of the ramp, Fox took cover in a corner next to the airlock's opening and silently motioned Falco to make his way up. The avian joined Fox, who covered him as he crept through the airlock into the darkness of the ship's lower level. After a second or two, Fox saw Falco's blue-feathered hand emerge through the airlock and wave him inside. He carefully stepped through the airlock, standing next to Falco in the middle of the ship's lower level.

There were three possible places on the ship that Krystal could've been hiding: In the engine housing to the aft of the ship, in the cargo hold in the arrowhead-shaped bow, and in the cockpit and passenger seating in the second level up the spiral staircase. Fox directed Falco towards the cargo hold with a motion of his hand while he made his way silently to the cramped engine housing room. He slid open the door, peeking inside and wishing that there had been more light, finding nothing but the interlocking pipes and tubes of the _Pleiades'_ five engines. He did note, however, that the control box for the ship's slave circuit system had been torn open and the circuitry inside had been ripped free of its housing.

Fox soundlessly returned to the airlock of the shuttle, where Falco emerged from the cargo hold after a moment and gave the thumbs-up symbol. They both glanced up the cramped spiral staircase, and Fox directed Falco to cover him as he crouched down and slowly crept up the stairs, one silent step at a time. All the while, Fox kept his blaster carbine bared, held close to his hip as he edged his back along the rails of the stairs, always keeping his eyes and his aim on the curving stairs around the corner ahead of him. He reached the top of the stairs, briefly taking cover around the corner of the entrance to the cockpit area before glancing back around to see Falco crouched behind him, his hard predatory eyes leveled at the entrance to the cockpit. Fox made a motion with his hand and Falco snuck forward, nearing the opening before quietly lunging into the cockpit area and sweeping his carbine swiftly over the room. After a moment of stillness, Falco approached the pilot's seat, quickly coming around and leveling the carbine at whoever might be sitting there, then his eyes widened and the fleshy corners of his beak turned downwards in a frown.

"Shit. She ain't here, man," Falco announced.

"Dammit," Fox cursed, joining Falco in the cockpit and speaking into his microphone, "Peppy, we've just cleared the shuttle. Krystal's not here."

"Guess we couldn't expect to be that lucky," Peppy grumbled over the comm. as Fox approached the pilot control consoles, accessing the shuttle's status log on the main computer, "Did she leave anything behind?"

"Yeah, she left tha' disc, gift-wrapped an' right on tha' floor for us," Falco remarked flatly.

"It doesn't look like it," Fox replied into the microphone.

"Whup, scratch that. She left her butt," Falco announced.

Fox turned to tell Falco to knock the sarcasm off, and was surprised to see a burnt-out, half-smoked Dutta Ebony kretek held in the avian's fingers.

"Hmh. Krystal neva' seemed tha' type," Falco shrugged, flicking the kretek through the air.

"You could say that for a lot she's done lately," Fox murmured, returning his attention to the status log on the shuttle's computer console, "The engines were powered down only about fifteen minutes ago."

"She can't have gotten far," Peppy came back over the comlink, "We haven't been able to get much helpful information for you, Fox, but judging from the data the CSB gave us and our own thermal scans, the Remnant camp should be within about two kilometers west of your position. See if you can pick up her trail. I'll send you a topographic map to display on your scouter; but I'm not sure how much help it'll be since it doesn't take into account the thickness of the vegetation in the area."

"Just send it; we'll make do. Moving out," Fox replied, leading Falco down the staircase and through the airlock, pressing the green button to retract the ramp before stepping back out into the clearing, the muggy, hot air smothering him like a blanket. Through the green scouter over his eye, Fox suddenly saw a three-dimensional map of the surrounding area, with a compass rose in the corner pointing him towards an area currently off screen. Fox turned until the compass was pointing him directly ahead into the forbidding, shadowy rainforest at the edge of the clearing, then began walking towards the façade of trees with Falco in tow.

"I think I've got her," Fox announced hesitantly, crouching down near a series of depressions in the soft ground that led in the same direction that his map was pointing him.

"Ya' sure those are hers?" Falco inquired, his eyebrow twitching upwards.

"It's not an exact science and it's hard to be a hundred percent about it…" Fox admitted, examining one of the tracks, "But it looks like her shoe size, and it's pretty recent. The tread patterns make it a boot of some sort. And they're headed in the right direction. Peppy's better at this than I am, but it looks like the best lead we've got."

Falco nodded and they followed the trail towards the verdant barrier of jungle. The trees seemed to tower more and more overhead as they got closer, and Fox's grip on the handle of his blaster carbine tightened.

"Just make sure you stay sharp in here, for all the-" Fox began, only for Falco to interject, "I _know_. Rebels, Venomians, Krystal. All baddies with guns that don't like us."

"Not just them," Fox informed him, "Keep an eye out for predators, too. Varanis dragons and anacondas especially."

"Ana—whatsits?"

"Anaconda."

"Tha' fuck is _that_?"

"It's a big fucking snake," Fox snapped, "Grows about fifteen meters long, thick as a tree trunk and likes to eat things about your size. They hide in the rivers and ambush prey that go near the bank. You want to watch out for them."

"Sweet. I hate snakes," Falco groaned.

"Well they _love _you, so let's _not _to run into them," Fox remarked.

"Roger that," Falco muttered flatly as they stepped into the shade of the rainforest canopy.

The air instantly became cooler as they began to walk amongst the trees, the light from the sun almost entirely blocked by the canopy of leaves far overhead. A glance upward revealed a patchwork of treetops that obscured almost all view of the skies, with veins of light penetrating through like grout through the seams of a tile floor.

Journeying into the rainforest felt like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted in the earth and big trees were kings. The remarkably clear forest floor, soft with moss and decomposing plant matter, contrasted with the sheer immensity and diversity of the trees and plants enveloping them, the most lurid expression of nature that Fox had ever seen. Trees stretched as high as small buildings, surrounded by hundreds of other trees of similar size and different type, intermingled with hundreds of varieties of vines, ferns, and shrubs. There was so much green that it felt almost oppressive, and in some places the air hung so heavy with moisture that whole areas were cloaked in a muffling, impenetrable fog. Hundreds of types of insects that Fox couldn't even begin to name crawled along the tree trunks and flew through the air, while the symphony of dozens of different birds cawing and tweeting could be heard in the distance.

Aside from maybe the oceans of Aquas, the jungles of Fortuna were the most biodiverse environment in all of Lylat, with one in 15 known species in the galaxy native to the planet. Spending most of his time in either the sterile, lifeless environment of starships or in the bustling megacities of Corneria, Fox felt overwhelmed, uncomfortably so, by the vibrantly fluctuating rainforest all around. Everything around him was in some state of living, breathing, growing, decaying, and dying, as if the forest and everything in it was all one massive, cancerous organism. Fox was accustomed to the trappings of his own advanced civilization, which had conquered and tamed nature to such an extent that it could drain the oceans and practically change the weather. Civilization was an abstract thought here, nature the unbound, untamed, unquestioned master. Fox found it hard to shake the feeling that he was being watched, _hunted _even, by something within the shades of the forest. Several times he could swear that he saw vines in the process of growing out of the corner of his eyes, their tendrils slithering up tree trunks like snakes. He couldn't tell if it was a trick of the light or the beginnings of another flashback.

As Fox and Falco delved deeper into the rainforest, following Krystal's trail, the shadows cast by the canopy above only seemed to grow darker. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine that occasionally leaked through the treetops. The trail through the jungle ahead of them ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances.

Fox brushed aside a fern with a rustle of leaves, hearing a twig snap under his boot and prompting a wince across his cream-furred muzzle. They needed to be quieter, but to go any slower would run the risk of the trail going cold. Fox could hear the roaring gush of a waterfall far ahead, but beyond about ten meters the air grew thicker and greyer until all that could be seen was a white wall of fog.

Even though it was considerably cooler in the shade of the canopy, the air was still thick and heavy enough that the fur on Fox's arms was becoming matted, and he occasionally caught himself panting slack jawed from the heat. Whenever he did, Fox hastily corrected this behavior to prevent Falco from making some sort of remark about it.

Fox glanced ahead to see a new set of Krystal's footprints in the soil, confirming that they were still on the right track, when a rustle in the branches above dripped water onto his bare shoulder. They both looked up and heard a pair of warbling squawks, the distinctive splayed-out wingspan of a violet macaw flapping overhead. The macaw unleashed a few more reedy croaks as it fluttered away into the trees. Fox looked back at Falco and suddenly burst out laughing at the sight of a blue mohawk of feathers standing erect on the avian's head.

"What?" Falco demanded, the stiff plumage on his skull fanning out to be even more erect.

"I should tell Katt she's got some competition," Fox chuckled, cupping his hand over his muzzle as his tail swept back and forth in amusement.

"Whaddaya talkin' about?" Falco interrogated hotly, then his beak clamped shut and his hand instantly went to the top of his head, discovering the erect head crest and forcefully smoothing it down, his eyes softened in a rare show of embarrassment as he cursed under his breath. Fox tried to suppress his chuckles, but he didn't succeed.

"Shaaaddup, fuzzball," Falco shot back, "At least my mouth don't hang open like a droolin' retard when it gets hot."

"Does that _always _happen when some parrot notices you, or did this one just _do it_ for you?" Fox grinned, rounding the trunk of a particularly thick tree and thinking about how much Slippy would enjoy being told this story.

"Fuuuuuuccccckkkk you," Falco drew out, "Ya' better cut that out, fuzzball, I'm gettin' a little pissed."

"Wow, what a change of…pace," Fox trailed off, stopping mid-step and staring down at a tiny, glowing orange dot in the shade of a small fern. He crouched down and brushed away the fern's leaves, revealing a fresh and remarkably clear footprint of Krystal's along with a still-burning Dutta Ebony kretek in the dirt nearby.

"Hel-lo," Falco remarked softly, staring at the kretek in Fox's fingers as he stood up to full height.

"Something's up here," Fox muttered, scrutinizing the kretek, "She had to know we're following her. There's no _way _she'd be that sloppy."

"She's gotta be close if it's still lit, right?" Falco whispered, drawing close to Fox.

"Five minutes ahead at most," Fox mused, "But why would she be so careless to just leave this here after covering her tracks before now? Either she's trying to lead us in the wrong direction, which she didn't have time for…"

"Or?"

"Or she _wants _to be found," Fox finished.

They had hardly brought their carbines to their shoulders before a volley of blue particle beams lanced out of the mist-shrouded forest ahead and plowed into the tree trunk nearby. Fox and Falco both instinctively leapt to the side, taking cover behind separate tree trunks as blue blaster bolts hissed out of the fog and darted through the air, punching into the trees with a burst of sparks and the odor of scorched wood.

"Cleva' girl, huh?" Falco yelled over the blaster fire, snapping his head back in surprise as a particle beam punched a hole through the tree trunk near his face.

Fox pushed his back into the tree trunk as he gripped his blaster carbine tightly, waiting for an opportunity to give Falco enough covering fire to outflank her. Falco seemed a bit less patient, unclipping a stun grenade from his belt.

"Enjoy, doll-face," Falco called out, pecking the pin out of the egg-shaped grenade with his beak and lobbing it into the fog. They took cover as a flash of white light and an earsplitting boom pierced the relative silence of the forest, prompting the rustle of trees and the frightened calls of birds taking flight from above. Just under all of this, Fox could swear that he heard a female voice letting out a cry of distress up ahead.

They waited about two seconds to make sure that they weren't being fired at before leaping out from behind their trees and charging forward, squeezing the triggers on their blaster carbines. The Commando 12-S jerked in Fox's arms as it spat out green blaster bolts in rapid one-two-three bursts with every pull of the trigger, firing a steady stream of green into the clouds of fog ahead. His feet smashed into the soft jungle ground as he and Falco rushed forward, their carbines popping as they blindly fired at the mist.

"Cover!" Fox barked as they reached a thick tree surrounded by ferns, throwing his shoulder into the trunk with Falco just as more blue particle beams shot out of the mist. The blue bolts hissed through leaves and ferns like needles through paper, flashing past into the dim jungle depths behind them or plowing into a tree trunk with an explosion of sparks.

Fox gritted his teeth as the firing continued. He didn't even know for sure that it _was _Krystal, the fog had been so thick that it was impossible to tell just who was shooting at them and where they were. He edged his head around the curvature of the tree trunk, moving only millimeters at a time until he could see a small clearing about ten meters ahead, the sunshine giving enough light to make out the silhouette of an athletic female figure holding a heavy blaster pistol in each hand. Fox wasn't even allowed a moment to get a good look at the figure before it fired a blue particle beam that tore a grapefruit-sized chunk out of the tree trunk above his right ear. He yanked his head back behind cover, gripping onto his carbine tightly and letting out a growl as the firing suddenly stopped.

"I know every move you're going to make; even before _you _do," Krystal's posh, silky voice called out, "Fighting me isn't wise for either of you."

Just the sound of her voice spurred a rising sensation of pain and outrage in his chest. Fox bared his teeth and unclipped the grey hexagonal reflector device from his belt, handing it to Falco and signing an order to flank to the right with his hands. The avian nodded and Fox held up a fist, signaling him to wait.

"Listen to me!" Fox yelled, "Make it easy on yourself and we can talk this out. I know you're angry. But there's only one way this ends, Krystal."

"There are _several _ways this ends, Fox. The only constant is you, face-down on the ground. But if you're determined to prove me right, then let's bloody have at it."

"I DON'T want to hurt you, Krystal!" Fox retorted.

"You won't," Krystal hissed, "And that's _not _my name anymore."

"Oh, fuck this," Falco scoffed, grabbing one of the stun grenades from Fox's belt, pulling the pin out and lobbing it around the tree. The egg-shaped grenade sailed through the misty air, reaching the apex of its trajectory just as a blue particle beam blasted the grenade apart.

Falco growled and leapt out from behind the tree before Fox could tell him otherwise, firing off a burst of blaster bolts from his carbine before activating his reflector device. A hexagonal blue shield blossomed in front of Falco just in time to reflect a blue bolt back to its sender.

Fox leapt out from behind the tree to see the beam dart harmlessly into the depths of the jungle as Krystal leapt almost effortlessly to the side, bringing her twin DC-15 pistols up to bear at the same moment that Fox pulled the trigger, aiming for her legs. Almost in slow motion, the blue vixen pounced through the air, leaping over the three green blaster bolts before rolling across the ground and opening fire from a kneeling position. Fox lunged forward as a blue particle beam flashed past his ear, seeing a bolt graze Falco's shoulder just out of the corner of his eye. Krystal shoved her right-handed pistol into its holster, taking aim at Falco with her left as Fox charged towards her angrily, raising the butt of his carbine like a club. Fox was just about to smash the back of Krystal's head with the butt of the blaster when Krystal fired a shot into Falco's green blast-vest that threw the avian off of his feet, then lunged upwards and grabbed Fox's carbine with her free hand. She twisted around and came to her feet, stunning Fox with a knee to his stomach before elbowing him in the snout, snapping his head backwards with a flash of pain. Holstering her other pistol, Krystal grabbed Fox's carbine with both hands and yanked it out of his grip while he was still disoriented, then smashed the back of Fox's leg with the butt, bringing him to his knees and cracking him across the side of his face. Fox yelled out, the copper taste of blood in his mouth as he hit the dirt, seeing Falco sprinting forward with his hand on the reflector device.

Krystal brought the carbine up as Falco flung the hexagonal device through the air, the blue reflector field blooming out from the device just as it collided with Krystal's elbow. The vixen shouted and the carbine flew out of her hands as the reflector's induction field zapped her with a burst of electricity, knocking her backwards as Falco charged forward with his carbine in one hand and a clenched fist in the other.

Krystal tumbled to the side in an azure blur, the burst of green blaster bolts from Falco skimming just past her knee when she came to her feet, Falco's fist flying towards her jaw. In one fluid motion she bent backwards, grabbing Falco's wrist for balance as her foot came up and kicked into his beak. The avian fell backwards with a coughing squawk of pain just as Fox came to his feet and ran towards her, leaping into the air and thrusting his leg for a flying kick to Krystal's stomach. She caught his extended leg by the knee and ankle, using his momentum to twist around and throw him across the clearing. Fox yelled as he plowed into the ground, rolling across the soil with a throbbing pain in his hip and dirt caking the fur of his bare arms.

Fox and Falco got to their feet, wiping the blood from their mouths as Krystal drew both of her guns and aimed one at each of them. There was a momentary pause when she glared at them with steely cyan eyes, each of her pistols trained on their foreheads as they both stood without a weapon in hand. Then a cruel smirk appeared on her soft lips and she holstered her guns, sneering, "Surely you can do better than _that_."

Neither of them bothered to draw their side arms and instead rushed at her from either side, a fire burning in Fox's gut telling him to silence her pithy comebacks.

They reached Krystal at the same time, throwing their fists in her direction as she leapt into the air, scissor-kicking her legs so that one foot struck Fox's chest and the other foot struck Falco's. Fox stumbled backwards as Krystal came back to the ground and ran towards him, swinging her foot around for a kick to his shoulder. Fox blocked the kick and elbowed Krystal in the stomach, producing a satisfying grunt of pain from the vixen as she tripped backwards. Krystal dodged Fox's jab to her solar plexus, ducking underneath the crook of his arm and pressing her back into his chest, gripping his extended wrist. In a split-second, Fox saw Krystal tilt her head backwards and gaze into his soul with those sharp cyan eyes, then she planted a light, teasing kiss on his lips. Then she used his arm to throw him forward over her shoulder, slamming Fox on his back into the jungle floor.

The wind flew out of his lungs as Fox hit the ground, stunned, and Falco rushed forward with rage burning in his raptor's eyes. Krystal leapt through the air to meet him, swinging her leg out towards his face only for the avian to duck down and dodge it. Krystal landed gracefully on the ground, flipping her azure hair out of her eyes just as Falco slugged her in the face. She tumbled backwards as Falco threw another jab towards her and Fox rolled to his feet. Krystal blocked Falco's punch with one hand and backhand slapped him with the other, then punched him in the ribcage and struck him between the eyes with the flat of her palm. Falco fell backwards as Fox sprinted up to meet her, Krystal twisting through the air and lashing out with her foot. Fox ducked under the kick as she came down, jabbing her with a kidney punch that made her cry out in pain. Fox's victory was short lived, as Krystal swung around and drove the side of her fist into his jaw, throwing him backwards.

He was quick to regain his balance, darting rearwards and narrowly dodging Krystal's knifehand strike to his face before leaping into a hook kick aimed at Krystal's shoulder. The vixen cartwheeled to the side, Fox's foot sweeping over her head, both of their feet touching the ground at the same time. Fox charged towards her and Krystal somersaulted backwards, running off to the edge of the clearing. He gained on her, almost close enough to grab her blue bottlebrush tail until she jumped up and grabbed onto a low-hanging tree branch, swinging her legs forward before kicking both of them backwards into Fox's upper chest. The StarFox leader choked as he found himself once again on his back, quickly sitting up to see Krystal leap over his head and run to meet Falco, who grasped an egg-shaped object tightly in his hand.

"Cover!" Falco shouted as he blocked Krystal's punch to his face, then thrust his head forward almost as if offering it to her.

Fox saw the exact moment that Krystal's fist connected with Falco's beak, just as he dropped a primed stun grenade right between her feet. He quickly looked away and clamped his hands over his ears, kissing the dirt just as the piercing explosion of light and sound erupted from the small grenade.

Fox opened his eyes and sat up, feeling a slightly disorienting ringing in his ears, but it seemed mild compared to the state that the other two were in: Falco was on his hands and knees, breathing raggedly as blood trickled from his beak, while Krystal struggled to stay standing, grabbing blindly at the air.

Fox leapt to his feet, wiping the blood away from the corner of his mouth and storming towards the temporarily blind and deaf Krystal. Gripping her arm in his right hand and her neck in his left, Fox slammed her backwards into a nearby tree trunk then ripped his EE-40 blaster out of its holster and pressed it into her temple.

His grip on her neck tightened until he was sure he was choking her just a little, then he waited a moment for the effects of the grenade to wear off before drawing his face close to hers and roaring indignantly "WHY?"

He stood there with his hand around her neck and his gun to her head, breathing raggedly and covered in sweat and dirt, the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth as he stared into her eyes, once so gorgeous and full of promise, now only empty and haunted. She glared at him unyieldingly, her lip upturned in a sneer.

"Why not?" she whispered finally.

A heavy feeling sank through Fox's chest at her words, a stunned frown spreading over his muzzle. She continued to stare him down, unconcerned by the gun pressed to her head, as Falco struggled to his feet behind them with a groan.

The avian breathed groggily for a few moments as he stepped carefully across the clearing and retrieved his blaster carbine and the reflector device, then walked over to them and raised the gun up to Krystal's side.

"Yeah, so what was that ya' said 'bout knowin' every move we were gonna make? I guess improvisation's a bitch, huh?" Falco riposted, narrowing his glacial blue eyes.

Fox continued to stare her, his brow furrowed and his frown morphed into a grimace, his hand still tightened around her neck. More than anything, he wanted a straight answer from her.

"Right now's a bit improper for a heart to heart, don't you think, Fox? We do have people waiting for us," Krystal reminded him coolly, the blaster still shoved into her temple. The fact that she'd read his mind and knew what he wanted only infuriated him more, and he grit his teeth together in a fierce snarl.

"Yo Foxie, we gotta keep movin'. We can do this later," Falco insisted.

"I want to know _why_ she did this to us. I want to hear her explain it," Fox menaced, his eyes still locked onto hers.

"Remember what ya' said ta' me? Tha' part about not lettin' her get in your head? Think about this, man," Falco protested.

Fox's breathing slowed, and his glare softened, and his angry scowl became a frown of sad regret.

"Put her in cuffs," Fox breathed, keeping his EE-40 blaster up to her head.

Falco withdrew a pair of thick grey metal binder cuffs from a large pocket on his blast vest, opening them up with a small remote before grabbing Krystal's arm and snapping one of the manacles over her wrist. Fox released Krystal's neck and stepped back a bit, his blaster pistol still leveled at her face as Falco restrained Krystal's shoulder, turned her around and snapped the other manacle over her wrist, pressing a button on the remote that made the manacles tighten to her arms.

"The more you struggle, the tighter these things will grip," Fox explained, holstering his pistol, "I've seen them crush a guy's wrist."

"By all means, hurt me as much as you'd like," Krystal smiled, "Make sure you frisk me good, too. Don't forget my panties and my bra, Fox."

He gave her a hard look, and she only smirked back, as Falco took her two heavy pistols out of their holsters and stuffed them into the large pocket on his blast vest, then removed her extendable electrostaff from the sheath on her back and took the combat knife out of her belt.

Fox ran his hands over the pockets stitched to the legs of Krystal's bodysuit, feeling for anything inside. His fingers crushed a palm-sized object in a pocket on her upper thigh, and he opened the pocket and withdrew a shiny silver holodisc in a small half-moon shaped holder. He exhaled through his nose and slipped the holodisc into a pocket on his white vest, while Krystal only smirked at him like a child caught sneaking snacks before dinner.

Even disarmed and with her hands cuffed behind her back, her bright and sunken eyes still made her look dangerous. Wrapped up in her tight-fitting black armorweave bodysuit and heavy leather gauntlets, she didn't even look uncomfortable in the heat and humidity of the surrounding jungle. No matter what, she kept smiling her alluringly casual smile. Nothing seemed to faze, or even touch her.

"Peppy, we've got Krystal in custody and we have the disc as well. Proceeding to the Remnant camp," Fox announced into his headset's microphone, not taking his eyes off her.

"Copy that, Fox, good job. Remember to send word when you reach the camp," Peppy's voice came over the comlink with a low hiss of static.

"Falco, stay on her and make sure she doesn't try anything. I'll stay on point in case anything else happens," Fox instructed, picking his blaster carbine up off of the ground and quickly rejoining them.

He re-examined the map on his scouter, the compass rose still pointing them forward, into the grim shades of the rainforest. Fox looked over to Krystal, mentally keeping his focus on the mission, and asked, "Are we headed the right way?"

"You tell me."

"It's just as much in your interest to reach the camp as ours. And you wouldn't have headed here if you didn't know how to reach them," Fox challenged.

Krystal breathed and looked off to the side for a moment, then conceded, "If we keep heading in this direction, we'll reach them in a few minutes."

Without another word, they trudged out of the clearing and back under the dim rainforest canopy, the thick air wrapping around them once again like a damp sheet. After a few moments, they passed the bend of a thick river with the waterfall that Fox had heard before, just barely visible through the trees and haze. They avoided the river as much as possible, not wanting to risk the chance that an anaconda might've been waiting in the depths.

As the sounds of the waterfall faded, the disturbing silence of the jungle began to unease Fox as they hiked. Every so often a bird would cry out or tree branches would rustle insistently, but otherwise the forest around them seemed remarkably still and quiet. Fox once again got the slight feeling that something was watching him through the darkness.

"You do realize I had to _let _you capture me, don't you? The Remnant will only give over the other disc if I have the Prime Minister's pardon. I realized that on my way here. It was really the most elegant solution," Krystal shrugged.

"Oh, so ya _let _me stick that stun bomb up your ass?" Falco derided haughtily, "All part a' your master plan, huh? _Please _shut up an' keep movin'."

With that, the avian shoved Krystal's back, sending her stumbling forward wildly with a grunt.

As she caught her balance, the vixen whipped around and glowered at Falco, hissing, "_Kiikasheg_!"

"What tha' hell did she just say?" Falco asked, chuckling slightly.

"She's speaking Cerinian," Fox muttered back, vaguely recognizing the sounds. Whenever she got angered or frustrated, she would occasionally curse in her native tongue.

"Did she bewitch me or somethin'?" Falco giggled, unconcerned.

"It means 'your mother's vagina'," Krystal informed him sweetly.

Falco laughed at her mockingly, shrugging it off.

"Now there's one I neva heard before. I'll hafta use it sometime. Too bad everyone speaks Basic, though," Falco retorted.

"Predictably arrogant. And patently false," Krystal huffed, looking over her shoulder, "Children on this planet learn to speak native Fortunan side by side with Basic. Over eighty percent of the planet speaks it as their primary language. And let's not forget that all of Sauria still speaks Saurian."

"So she's a language expert too. Who woulda guessed?" Falco mused indifferently.

"It's a skill you acquire when you find yourself the last person in the galaxy that speaks your native tongue," Krystal informed him.

"So where's the accent come from?" Falco interrogated.

"I don't have an accent," Krystal shrugged, "This is what Basic sounds like when it's spoken _properly_."

"I didn't think you ever spoke Cerinian anymore," Fox commented quietly, looking back at her.

"Do you think I _dream _in that unfeeling language of yours?" Krystal whispered softly, for once without a hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone.

Fox turned back and began leading them forward once again. They continued into the jungle in silence, the forest seemingly stretching on forever, the trees growing a bit thicker than before. It almost felt as if the trees were closing in on them.

"We're almost there…" Krystal muttered as Fox continued forward, then her voice suddenly pierced the silence as she yelled, "STOP!"

Fox froze and whipped around to face her, leveling his carbine at her as Falco did the same.

"I wouldn't point the gun at _me_, not when I just saved your life," Krystal growled at them.

"What are you talking about?" Fox demanded, his carbine still trained on her.

"If you'll allow me a moment…" Krystal trailed off, slowly walking past Fox as their guns continued to follow her. She continued about a pace or two ahead of him before gesturing to the ground with her foot.

Fox looked down into the dirt, noticing what at first appeared to be a small branch or seedling sticking out of the soil, then realized that it was a three-pronged metal pressure fuse. It was the telltale sign of a Venomian Mark-S antipersonnel mine, nicknamed the "leaping Lucy" by Commonwealth soldiers in the Lylat War. When the fuse was tripped, a propellant charge would detonate, launching the mine up to face-level, at which point the mine itself would detonate, spraying hundreds of metal ball bearings in every direction at lethal speeds.

Fox looked up at her with a small amount of confusion, and she nonchalantly said, "Psychic, remember? The whole area leading up to the camp is covered in these. I can navigate the minefield if you'll let me lead."

Fox looked at Falco, then back at Krystal, asking, "How close are we?"

"Moments away. The minefield is their perimeter defense," she answered.

Fox gestured with his hand, and Krystal began leading them forward, instructing them to stay directly behind her, as close as possible. They continued about five more minutes into the dense, dark forest, matching Krystal's footsteps as best they could, following her weaving path through the minefield.

As they rounded around a tree trunk, the shrubbery and ferns suddenly grew prohibitively thick, blocking their view into the depths of the jungle.

"I thought you said we were almost there," Fox growled.

"We are," Krystal answered quietly, looking straight ahead.

Fox looked back ahead into the veritable wall of shrubs, suddenly hearing a low mechanical whine as the barrel of a long, heavy blaster cannon swung out of the shrubs and pointed right at Fox. His muscles tightened and he could suddenly feel the weight and coolness of the sweat dampening his fur, the harness of the metal carbine in his hands. He could now see the metal housing of the small turret tower that the cannon was connected to, painted green and black to camoflauge it against the jungle background.

There was a cocking of safeties as a small group of soldiers wearing weathered maroon and black armor with face-obscuring black helmets emerged from the brush, aiming long HLT-18 blaster rifles at Fox and Falco.

"Oh, shit, this feels familiar," Falco muttered under his breath, looking around at the group of soldiers in Venomian armor aiming guns at them.

"This is _your _operation, right, Fox? Just explain why we're here," Krystal told him, almost condescendingly. The soldiers hadn't said a word, looking down through their rifles' sights at them, their black helmets as expressionless as ever. Fox breathed, trying to keep things cool, then stared at the soldiers and at the blaster turret.

"We were sent here with something for General Zaius," Fox explained, and the soldiers shivered a bit at the mention of the name, "We're expected."

The soldiers exchanged looks, even though their faces looked all the same, and they stared them all down for a moment before one pointed at the carbines in their hands.

Fox slowly slipped his arm into the strap around the carbine, throwing the blaster over his shoulder and showing his empty hands. Falco did the same, and the soldiers lowered their guns, one of them gesturing into the wall of shrubs.

The three of them slowly walked into the shrubs, parting them and walking through with the soldiers following them and the turret's cannon still trained on them.

The area they entered was not quite a clearing, but the amount of trees was significantly less. Fox looked up to see a long network of camoflauge netting stretched out amongst the trees above, keeping the entire area in shade and hidden from being spied on from above the rainforest canopy. A series of large metal prefabricated buildings were scattered around the area, and soldiers in Venomian armor of varying stages of care were walking around everywhere, everyone holding a weapon in their hands. A grounded, rotting hovertank lie up against a tree nearby, and Fox slowly noticed the odd, revolting stench of death and decay emanating from the entire area.

Fox stepped forward into the camp, looking over to the side and spotting the hulking, two-legged frame of a Venomian fighting mech, a nine-meter tall bipedal walker with a head curved like the beak of an avian that gave the vehicle an almost comical look. For some reason, what he saw on the mech's leg unsettled Fox more than anything he'd seen so far. Written in vibrant, almost shining white were the words: OUR MOTTO: APOCALYPSE NOW.

"Welcome to the Venomian Remnant, Fox," Krystal said, "Don't expect a warm welcome."


	11. Apocalypse Now

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I was really excited to do this chapter. Not only does it continue the motif that was set by the last chapter, paying tribute to two very powerful works of literature and film, I also had a lot of fun with the characters and the atmosphere in this one, putting Fox and company in a very dark place while Wolf and Leon's action is a bit more light hearted. It's also a bit shorter than usual, that's because the next chapter is a godzilla monster of carnage and destruction, when the build-up of the last two chapters comes to an explosive head. So please sit back and enjoy the darkness, and please leave a review if you'd be so kind. -TU

* * *

**-Apocalypse Now-**

Despite their primal, sometimes violent impulses, lupines were possibly the most hardy and adaptive members of the canid race, having thrived in both the polar and temperate regions of their home planet of Corneria. Cold never bothered Wolf in the slightest and his childhood in the hot, dusty outback of Katina had given him a healthy appreciation for intense levels of heat. But at least Katina was _dry_. Humidity was not Wolf's friend.

His chest moved up and down rhythmically as he panted, his tongue sliding back and forth over his bottom jaws. The air was dense and sticky, like trying to breathe through soup, and he hadn't even gone into the jungle yet.

Wolf stood in the shade of a Fantomas Hypernautics CR-7 Bane dropship cargo hold, a three by eleven meter empty space that had been modified to house a radar and communications console as well as a first aid station and a small bed. Called _Fang One_, the Team StarWolf dropship was little more than the cockpit and the cargo hold, intended for use when their Wolfens were either unnecessary or too high-profile. Though it wasn't worth much in a fight, it did have a pair of twin-mounted laser cannon turrets and a remarkably powerful ion cannon that could disable the shields of larger ships, along with a low-power warp drive system that was useful for quick escapes to the _Lone Wolf_. It was much smaller and more utilitarian than the Team StarFox shuttle, but it still did the job.

Wolf leaned against the frame of _Fang One_'s open hatch, glancing up at the blue sky and the blazing sun scornfully as he licked his black nose and continued to pant, crossing his muscular arms over his vest. He hadn't changed his usual outfit, still clothed in a black A-shirt and pants, a blue blast vest and his spiked narcium shoulder pads. Even if he had changed, he still would've felt uncomfortable with his scruffy grey fur in this humidity.

"It just had ta' be here, didn't it?" Wolf grumbled.

"What was that, Wolf?" Leon's voice sounded from within the ship.

Wolf glanced over his shoulder to see the stealth-suited chameleon sliding down the stepladder that fed into the dropship's cockpit, coming up next to him at the top of the boarding ramp.

"It's sticky as all hell," Wolf growled, leaning back against the doorframe, "Even Aquas wasn't bad as this."

"I think it's quite nice," Leon replied with an oddly authentic smile, tapping down the ramp onto the soft ground, then spreading his arms and looking towards the sky, "That sun, it's just…invigorating, isn't it?"

Wolf raised a furry eyebrow, his lavender eye glancing up at the sun and then back at Leon, who stood with his arms raised as if in the grips of a religious trance. Wolf had known Leon longer than anyone else, and the reptilian still never ceased to surprise him.

"Can't say I feel ya' on that one," Wolf remarked flatly, flicking a mosquito away from his arm. The muscles in Leon's back rippled as he stretched, the spines on his vertebrae quivering as the chameleon let out a contented sigh.

"It's so easy to forget that you're not cold-blooded, Wolf. I wish you could feel what I'm feeling now…" Leon breathed soothingly, then looked back at Wolf, "Do you ever get like that? When you want to show someone exactly the way you feel?"

The affectionate tone in Leon's nasal voice gave Wolf an eerie, uncomfortable feeling under his skin, and he looked over to the ground for a moment, not sure of what to say.

"We got a job, Leon. Let's get to it," Wolf muttered gruffly, stomping down _Fang One_'s boarding ramp and onto the soft ground of Fortuna.

"Yes, Wolf," Leon said quietly, composing himself as he followed close behind. Up ahead loomed the impenetrable Kongis jungle, a shadowy maze of endless green. They entered the forest, the air growing both cooler and somehow even thicker, the darkness of the canopy above weighing down on the both of them. Wolf glanced slowly from side to side as they trudged through the jungle, the quiet stillness of the air somewhat unnerving to him. Every once in a while he could hear the rustle of branches or the cry of some exotic bird, but otherwise there was nothing, a heavy silence that felt unnatural for such a vibrant environment. It was like the trees themselves _knew _that there were outsiders in their midst, and were watching the intruders closely for signs of weakness. Wolf remembered reading somewhere about the old days when Fortuna was even more savage and untamed as a colony of the Cornerian Empire, and the colonial authorities had tried to expand the capitol of Kan-Doltha by leveling the surrounding Kongis jungle, hoping to turn the city into a central headquarters for controlling the entire Triton-Sub System. Despite the efforts of the Cornerians, the jungle always seemed to regenerate almost overnight, requiring several kilometers of land to be repeatedly defoliated until something could be built. After practically a century of trying to expand the city into the jungle, the Cornerians gave up and relocated the central colonial administration to Zoness. In the eons since then, the jungle had swallowed up practically everything that the Cornerians had tried to build into the Kongis.

Wolf crushed a slug under his boot as they rounded a tree, looking off into the shady distances ahead. The thickness of the trees, combined with the shadows and the steamy fog that bloomed throughout the branches meant that it was difficult to see further than a few meters ahead.

"Panther," Wolf called, pressing a finger to the side of his optical implant, "We headed tha' right way?"

"**Comrade Caruso is in his quarters at the moment, my Lord, I believe watering his roses**," IG-N 96's reedy voice came in over the comlink, "**Currently, you are less than a kilometer from the landing zone of the **_**Pleiades**_**. Continue on your present course and you should reach it in approximately five minutes**."

Wolf rolled his eye, hoping he would remember to yell at Panther for leaving his station to tend to his damn roses of all things, brushing aside a fern as they trudged forward.

"We gonna be alone when we get there?" Wolf inquired, scratching behind his pointed right ear.

"**Thermal scans detect no warm bodies in the immediate area, save for Comrade Powalski and yourself, my Lord. You should encounter no trouble**," IG replied.

"Copy that," Wolf grunted, "Do me a favor an' tell Panther I'm airlocking his fuckin' flowers tha' next time he leaves his post."

"**I will relay the message to the best of my ability, Lord O'Donnell. Pleasant hunting**," IG returned with a slight crackle over the comm.

Wolf silently led Leon through the jungle, trudging amongst the trees and once more looking in various directions as if they were being followed. After about five minutes of continuing through the rainforest, Wolf could see the trees beginning to thin, with a large space visible up ahead.

The lupine and the reptilian emerged in the shadow of a Cosmolabs _Maia_-class shuttle, its landing struts sinking into the soft earth. The last time Wolf had seen the _Pleiades_, he'd nearly shot it down over Temple. He allowed himself a brief smile at the memories that the ship brought back.

Wolf strolled under the ship's hull, looking for the boarding ramp in the undercarriage.

"We could just attach the tracking beacon to the exterior," Leon suggested, exploring the underside of the ship.

"Too much chance it'll be found, or malfunction or fall off or somethin'," Wolf dismissed, tracing his clawed hand along the seams of the boarding ramp until he found the small control panel and flipped it open, "If that happens tha' whole plan's screwed."

Wolf pressed the button, hearing a mechanical hiss as the boarding ramp lowered and the airlock at the top slid open. He led Leon up the ramp, into the ship's lower level, glancing around at the doors on each side of the chamber along with the small spiral staircase leading upwards.

Wolf opened the first door, finding a mostly empty cargo hold strewn with the occasional box and piece of trash, and withdrew a palm-sized, ovaloid white object with a central red diode from his pocket, attaching it to the wall of the cargo hold and shoving a random box in front of it to hide it.

"Done," Wolf grunted to himself, then activated the comlink in his implant and said, "Just planted tha' homing beacon, IG. You gettin' a signal from it?"

"**Affirmative, Lord O'Donnell. Provided they do not pass through an ion storm or a nebula, we should be able to track StarFox to the **_**Xerxes**_**. I shall begin writing a program to slave the **_**Lone Wolf**_**'s warp drive to the same general coordinates that the beacon follows**," the droid reported.

"Copy that. We're headed back soon. Wolf out," the StarWolf leader returned, slowly walking towards the airlock.

"You know, it would be _so_ easy to just plant a bomb in here. Or sabotage their engines. Maybe we could even plant a virus inside the ship's main computer," Leon mused, staring pensively at the shuttle's bulkheads.

"Where's tha fun in that?" Wolf shrugged, looking over his shoulder from the airlock.

"Finally killing Fox McCloud?" Leon remarked with disbelief.

"What's that gonna prove?" Wolf snarled, turning to face the chameleon, "That we couldn't do it tha' right way; so we had ta' sneak onto his ship like some parasite an' kill him with a _bomb_? Ya' think we could look back on that an' feel proud, like we finally got tha' best of 'em? He's the only enemy we haven't been able ta' kill, an' short of James McCloud, he's still tha' greatest warrior I've ever met. After all we've done to each other, he deserves better. So do we."

Leon huffed, speechless as Wolf started to walk down the shuttle's boarding ramp. Leon always thought he'd lacked the emotional capacity for envy, but he could not deny the split-second of jealousy he felt towards Fox McCloud in that moment.

"Well we've got to do _something_," Leon insisted, following Wolf down the ramp, "We're at their shuttle. The Arwings are parked _right _across the clearing. We've got time."

"What do ya' wanna do? Piss on his engines?" Wolf demanded skeptically, pressing the green button as Leon stepped away from the boarding ramp.

The ramp retracted upwards into the shuttle's undercarriage, Leon putting his spidery hands on his hips as his tail curved into a spiral shape.

"They're _Arwings_, Wolf," Leon pressed, "Tell me you _don't _want to see one up close."

Wolf stared at Leon for a moment, turning things over in his head, and glanced briefly at the graceful blue and white fighters gleaming in the sunlight across the clearing. He could not silence the ping of curiosity in the back of his mind, perhaps all that remained of his adolescent fanboy StarFox fascination.

Leon smiled slyly, as if he knew what was going through Wolf's head.

Wolf rolled his eye and exhaled through his nose, feigning annoyance.

"Let's get this over with," Wolf grumbled.

* * *

"Peppy, we're there," Fox whispered discreetly into his microphone as the soldiers led them into the camp. There was no answer, and he quickly dropped his hand away from his headset as he looked around. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins as the flesh beneath his fur crawled. Everything that he saw, surrounding him in the Venomian Remnant camp inspired a creeping feeling of ominous dread. The camouflage netting strung along the treetops made him feel as if he was in a cage. The Venomian soldiers, clad in their dirty maroon armor, were twisted shadows of people, all having some sort of scar, implant or cybernetic prosthetic to replace a lost limb. A few of them walked around the camp without the signature darkened helmets; regardless of their species they had the face of someone who had been touched by horrors. Every time they walked past, the soldiers would scan them with harsh, confused glances, dissecting the strange aliens that had entered their realm. Even the occasional Venomian battle droids they spotted patrolling the camp seemed to look at them strangely. As Fox continued into the camp, passing squat gray prefabricated buildings with Falco and Krystal in tow, the stench of rotting flesh continued to flood into his nostrils.

His snout wrinkled and he scanned around for the source of the odor, then his eyes grew large as he spotted a large tree at the edge of the camp: strung to the branches by a hangman's noose, spinning slowly in the air was the naked body of a male reptilian with dried blood streaming down his green scales, clouds of flies swarming around. He suddenly spotted two more displays hanging from other trees on the edge of the camp, an avian and a feline this time, but the result was the same. Though the air was still thick and muggy, Fox suddenly felt very cold.

"What tha' hell is this place?" Falco whispered, the sardonic edge gone from his eyes.

Fox had seen the Venomian death camps on Macbeth during the Lylat War, as well as other gory examples of what Andross' forces were capable of.

This was something else.

It had to do with the casual way that all of the soldiers carried on, their haunted faces expressing that they were aware of the madness all around them, and that there was no alternative. The resignation, the acceptance that this was their existence, made the soldiers as horrific as the corpses hanging from the trees.

Fox passed by a vulpine in red armor with a scar over his left eye, marring the silver fur of his face. As he looked at the soldier, the vulpine turned to completely face him, revealing a green optical implant in the place of his right eye, and a curving metal prosthetic in the place of the right half of his jaw. Fox looked away as Krystal continued forward, her arms still locked in binder cuffs behind her back. She was quiet, but seemed oddly unfazed by the sights around them.

"Over here! Yes, yes, there you are! Come over here!" a voice called out from the depths of the camp.

Fox, Falco and Krystal looked over to see an emaciated brown-furred rodent in a tattered maroon uniform waving his arms at them as he strode over to their location, his naked tail whipping behind him with every step.

The rodent stopped in front of them, his eyes wild and his mouth open to reveal a mouth full of crooked teeth.

"Oh, I've been wondering where you guys were and here you _are_, just right on time. I like that, yes I do," the rodent greeted, looking at Krystal and then at Fox and Falco.

"How you doing? How you doing?" the rodent asked each of them, shaking their hands one after the other without waiting for an answer. As he reached Krystal and extended his hand, he finally seemed to notice her hands cuffed behind her back, stopping him for a moment.

"Woah, what's going on? A little kinky for you, huh, Kursed?" the rodent remarked, looking at Fox, "What's with the binders, man? We're all friends here."

"Who are you?" Fox inquired, putting a hand on his hip.

"What? I didn't say? Damn, that is just like me, isn't it, always jumping right into something like that assuming everyone knows me. It's just I know Kursed here and I thought she'd told you about me, and we don't get visitors too often, so I thought…" the rodent rambled, seeming to lose his train of thought, "My name's Kurtz. Colonel Kurtz. I am the General's attaché. If you're talking to the General you're talking to me, and guess what? You're talking to me! Hahaha! How you doing?"

The rat extended his paw once again, giving Fox a trembling handshake. The naked fur on the rat's hand was clammy and cold, his fingernails either broken or unusually long. After a few moments, the rat just kept shaking his hand, refusing to let it go.

"And who are you?" Kurtz inquired.

"He's with me," Krystal answered before Fox could vocalize, staring at him urgently.

Fox nodded, realizing that it probably wasn't a great idea to identify himself as Fox McCloud surrounded by soldiers he'd fought against. At least not until they got inside somewhere.

"Okay, he's _with _you," Kurtz giggled, then snapped, "Then why's he got you in binders, man? That's not cool! Come on; let's get rid of that stuff! We're all here! We're all his children. Come on."

Fox gave Falco a look, who swallowed and carefully withdrew the remote for the binder cuffs, pressing a button. With a click, the manacles snapped open and fell to the ground, Krystal rubbing her wrists delicately. Falco picked up the binder cuffs and stashed them inside the last free pocket on his blast vest, his eyes darting around cautiously at the surrounding soldiers.

"There we go, much better!" Kurtz grinned, "So you're back, Kursed! I guess you've got that pardon for us? That's great, that'll make the General _so _happy. It's been _so _long since he's been happy, believe me man."

Somehow, Fox had forgotten about the pre-approved Pardon For Crimes Against the Commonwealth stored on the datapad in his vest, already signed by Robert Fitzroy and awaiting General Zaius' signature. In the decade since the Lylat War, even though several trials were held to punish those that had collaborated with the Venomian occupation of Macbeth and even more Venomian officers were indicted in absentia, there had never been a single trial to hold one member of the Venomian Army or Starfleet responsible for the war's atrocities. General Zaius' Venomian Remnant was all that remained of the force that brought so much pain to so many people throughout the Lylat System, and here Fox was, not to bring them to justice but to forgive them of their crimes. The CSB wanted the _Xerxes _so bad that they were willing to absolve these last remnants of Andross' legacy of all the evil they had done, all of the evil that they were clearly _doing_, and all that they would do. Fox felt something drain from him as he reflected on how often he felt unsure that he was working for the good guys. Was making sure the _Xerxes _ended up in the hands of Gillian Morrow any more of a just cause than whoever StarWolf was working for? Was it even possible to do the right thing in the midst of all this…darkness?

Fox tried to push the thoughts past him, for a time when he could properly consider them. He just had to get through this, and make it back to the _Great Fox_. Then he could worry about those things, away from the madness of this place.

"Can we talk to the General?" Fox inquired, a little frustrated at the rodent's non-stop ramblings.

Kurtz looked at him and chuckled, shaking his head, grinning with his crooked teeth.

"You…you don't talk to the General. You listen to him, man…He—he's expanded my mind. He's a warrior-philosopher in that old-school sense, I mean, sometimes he won't even notice that you're there, and then other times he'll grab you and tell you why we're all nothing but hollowed out creatures without form. Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the child can't hear the parent; all of this has happened before and all of this will happen again, back in the stream that feeds the ocean that feeds the stream, I—I—I'm a small person, he's a _great _person, he's kept us all here through everything, so you understand you just _can't _talk to him like you're talking to me, you get me?" Kurtz explained, breathing hard.

Fox stared confused at the gesticulating Colonel, trying to make sense of his words, but it was clear that he didn't have any sense left.

"Come on, follow me, I'll take you guys to him. You can give him the pardon he's been wanting," Kurtz smiled, waving them into the depths of the camp, leading them around a mammoth tree trunk. Fox again felt an unclean feeling at the mention of a pardon for these people.

He beheld a large building up ahead, a curving half-cylinder shape with a satellite dish stabbing skyward, with a series of eighteen posts lined up in nine pairs leading towards the doors. Fox could not suppress the gasp that emerged from his mouth when he saw the decapitated heads of various species mounted at the top of each of each post: avian, reptile, canine, feline; all staring open-mouthed at them as they came forward.

"My god," Fox whispered to himself, suppressing a gag from the stench.

Kurtz looked over his shoulder at Fox, his grin disappearing.

"Oh…the heads," Kurtz frowned, "You're looking at… the heads, right? Sometimes he goes…too far. He's the first to admit it."

"He's out of his fuckin' head," Falco muttered, glancing with disgust at the head of a green-feathered avian staring emptily at him with a swarm of flies swirling in and out of its beak.

"Wrong, no man, you're _wrong_," Kurtz argued, tears forming up in his eyes, "If—If you could've just heard him, just the other day, he's…he's just…"

The rodent's eyes darted from head to head as he looked for the words, and after a moment he simply stopped, looking desperately at Fox.

"We're just here to talk to him," Fox said, unsure of what else to say, trying to tune out the horror of his surroundings.

Kurtz silently led them towards the door, swinging it open and gesturing them inside. They walked through the doorway, entering a utilitarian ferroconcrete room lit by a pair of glowlamps hanging from the ceiling, stacked mostly with boxes and folding chairs. A threadbare, rotting red carpet stretched across the room, leading towards a dark doorway in the opposite wall. At both sides of the doorway stood guards in maroon armor with face-obscuring black helmets and long blaster rifles in their arms.

"Just…just wait here, I'll have to go in to see if he's ready for you, okay?" Kurtz informed them, looking towards the doorway as a group of three people emerged. Two of them were soldiers in Venomian uniforms, each gripping the shoulder of the one in the middle, a lanky and long-faced primate with pale, off-white fur. The primate wore a brown shirt and red trousers with a yellow bandana wrapped around his neck, and as the ape stared at him with dull, beady eyes, Fox realized that he knew this ape.

"Andrew?" Fox inquired with a level of disbelief.

The face of Andross' nephew, Andrew Oikonny, lit up as he beheld Fox and Falco, a smug smirk spreading across his lips as he and his escort came to a stop on the tattered red carpet.

"Well, well, well," Andrew simpered, narrowing his small eyes at them, "Fancy meeting you in this hellhole…StarFox."

"Of all tha' people the Aparoids _didn't _kill…" Falco groaned, "I thought you were dead, Oikonny."

"So did that Aparoid," Andrew replied haughtily, "Luckily for me, I have a knack for surviving trials that would kill lesser beings."

"Kinda like a cockroach," Falco remarked dryly, crossing his blue-feathered arms over his chest.

The former StarWolf pilot threw Falco a dirty look, then stared nonchalantly back at Fox.

"Hey, wait…StarFox?" Kurtz stammered, his mouth dropping open, "Woah! Woah man, no way! You're StarFox? _You're _StarFox? This is…this is…not great."

Fox's hands tightened into fists as the four Remnant soldiers in the room studied Fox and Falco, their faces hidden by black helmets but their body language telegraphing that they were not pleased. Fox thought back to the tense moment in Apollo trying to get into the ALF's headquarters, how similar it was to right now. He prayed Falco didn't say anything stupid.

Andrew kept smiling his broad, frog-like smile at Fox, seeming to delight in the awkwardness and confusion as Colonel Kurtz continued to stammer, his pink nose quivering as he tugged at his ragged uniform.

"Hey Fox, I'll make you a deal:" Andrew sneered, "If you get me out of here I'll show you the lava flow on Venom where they dumped your dad's body."

Something pulsed in Fox's chest and his mouth opened up into a snarl, and he glared daggers at Oikonny as the primate chuckled. The muscles in his arm tensed as his knees locked, the orange fur on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Oh man…oh man, I dunno," Kurtz rambled, looking at the three of them and demanding, "Does he _know_? I mean, are you telling me he _doesn't _know he's about to meet the guys that _put _him here?"

"Of course he does. He _requested _it when we came to this arrangement," Krystal answered calmly, then smirked, "Hello, Andrew. How's the arm?"

As if noticing her for the first time, the sneer disappeared from Andrew's face and his eyes darted in her direction, quickly glancing down at the floor as he tenderly cradled a long, ugly scar that snaked down from his left tricep to the middle of his forearm, a fleshy trail through his pale coarse fur.

Both Fox and Falco gave her slightly puzzled looks, and Krystal explained, "When Zaius' faction of the Remnant learned that Oikonny was still at large, they were very interested in having a few words with him. As Kursed, I thought it was fitting to collect the bounty for his capture given our…past, so I tracked him to a brothel on Macbeth. He recognized me, of course, and tried to run. He didn't get far."

A timid snivel escaped from Andrew's lips as he tenderly held his left arm.

"He's your prisoner?" Fox asked, looking towards the rodent.

The distressed look on Kurtz' face vanished as he realized that he was being spoken to, and the rat answered "He's Andross' nephew, it's not like we can kill him. The General keeps him around, so we all know the dangers of straying from his philosophy, the way Andrew and his allies did. His armies were crumbled into dust, scattered to the winds by…by _you_, and we keep him around so we know not to go down that path anymore. He's not just our prisoner; Andrew's…Andrew's our connection to the _old _way of things, the path we can't go down anymore. He's our connection to the one that started it all and you…you're the one who ended it all and brought us _here_, it's…it's kind of powerful, seeing you two in a room together."

Fox's brow furrowed, his ears twitching. It was the second time that Kurtz mentioned something about Fox being the one responsible for the Remnant being there. He chose not to ask, writing them off as the ramblings of someone who was clearly unstable.

"Bringing Andrew back here was my first encounter with Zaius and the Remnant," Krystal explained, "It's when I started putting together the plan to get the access discs to the _Xerxes _in exchange for a pardon from the Prime Minister. That's why I needed the CSB."

Andrew's face suddenly animated with disbelief, his simian mouth falling slack.

"You're going after the _Xerxes_?" Oikonny whispered under his breath, his dull brown eyes widening.

The two soldiers at Andrew's side began leading him towards the exit and he struggled against them as they ushered him past Fox and Falco.

"Hey Fox," Andrew mocked venomously, "I was serious about showing you that lava flow, even though there's probably nothing left of your dad's body by now. It was barely in one piece when we threw him—"

Fox's fist plowed into Andrew's teeth with a joyous crack, launching the primate backwards with a screeching scream of pain. Andrew crashed into the ground and Fox slipped between the Remnant soldiers that had been escorting him, bringing his foot back and kicking Oikonny hard in the stomach. All of the ambivalence, all of the unanswered questions about the CSB and his flashbacks and Falco's drinking and most of all about Krystal, it had piled onto Fox one after another without being resolved, festering in his head as he tried to put it aside and survive one of the most taxing assignments he'd ever been on. The horrific sight of the dead bodies littering the camp outside had pushed him to the breaking point. He had tried to ignore it, he had tried not to think about it, and he'd tried to take it all in stride, but then Andrew brought up one old wound too many and now Fox needed to _hit _something.

He could barely hear the yells of Kurtz and the Remnant soldiers, only focusing on the cries of pain erupting from Andrew's mouth and the satisfaction he got from seeing the whining little bastard convulse in agony on the floor as he kicked him again.

_Of all the people who died in the war, of all the people the Aparoids killed, of all the people that deserve to die, _you're_ still sucking down oxygen_, Fox thought as he gritted his teeth, Andrew's cries filling his ears, _And after more than a decade of defeats and close calls, you're still the same piece of shit you've always been. Fuck you. _

Fox was able to get one more kick in before two of the soldiers grabbed his arms and pinned him to a stack of crates, the other two leveling their blaster rifles at his face. He stared down the empty, dark barrels of the rifles that leered at him like eyes as the rodent colonel began to hyperactively wave his arms.

"Heyheyhey! What the hell?" Kurtz yelled, "Why'd you have to go and do that? Get this asshole out of here."

The guards began to drag Fox towards the door, just as Kurtz intervened and snapped, "_No_! _That _asshole!"

With that, the rodent stabbed a finger towards Andrew, who lay whimpering in a ball on the floor.

The guards released their hold on Fox and backed away, two of them picking Andrew up off the floor and half-carrying him towards the door with tears running down his face. Fox respired, brushing himself off and looking scornfully at Andrew as he was led out the door.

"Alright, alright, now everybody just be cool," Kurtz sighed as the other two guards took their post back at both sides of the door, "Nobody start anything else, okay? He doesn't like fighting in the camp. This, this is our place, you know? Out…out _there _is where the fighting happens. Here, we're all part of his family. I'll go see if he's ready for you. Wait. Wait right here."

The rodent gestured for them to wait with his hands for a few more moments, then nodded and disappeared through the blackness of the doorway, leaving them with the two guards that stood still as statues.

Fox breathed, flexing his hand and feeling the warm ache in his knuckles from where he'd hit Andrew, mentally scolding his lack of discipline but unable to deny the gratification he'd felt. He looked back at Falco and Krystal, both of whom had faint smiles on their faces.

"If you hadn't done it, I wouldda," Falco muttered, the fleshy corners of his beak turned upwards in a smirk, "Little fucker was askin' for it."

Fox smiled crookedly at Falco, swallowing contentedly.

"Temper, temper, Fox," Krystal admonished wryly, crossing her arms over her breasts, "If you're not careful, someone might think you were redirecting your anger for someone else at Andrew."

Fox gave her a detached, slightly revolted look, like the one she'd given him back on Apollo. The smirk on her lips, the confident gleam in her eyes that implied they were all acting exactly as she'd expected, it only made Fox want to hit her as well. Determined to stay silent, Fox concentrated all of the frustration, hurt and anger into one single, private thought: _Shut up. _

Krystal's smirk only deepened, and Fox looked away in disgust.

* * *

"Huh. He doesn't keep track of kills. _That's _interesting…"

"What?" Wolf inquired from his seat on the left wing of Fox McCloud's Arwing, observing Leon as he closely inspected Falco Lombardi's fighter. One of the reptilian's eyes slid up to look at Wolf as the other continued to inspect the Arwing before him.

"Lombardi doesn't mark his kills on his fighter," Leon answered, his long tongue running across his upper lip, "Surprising, given how ostentatious he is."

"What is it with you an' him?" Wolf inquired, "Whenever we go up against 'em, you always tend ta' go after him first."

Leon shrugged, running a hand down the Arwing's long, white nose.

"Similar flying styles, I suppose, like you and McCloud," Leon pondered, "We like testing ourselves in the cockpit; whenever we got into a dogfight it felt like we were trying to outperform each other rather than just kill each other. I guess we're both…_off_, in our own different ways. That, and he annoys me. He never shuts up. I'd rather enjoy silencing him. You know, they don't really personalize these things at _all_."

Wolf nodded, resting an elbow on the upper G-diffuser housing as he looked over the main fuselage of the Arwing. Aside from the name COMMANDER FOX MCCLOUD stenciled near the canopy and the StarFox logo on the G-diffuser housings, the ships were practically indistinguishable from one and other.

Since the Wolfen's original design firm VenCom had dissolved with the fall of Venom, maintaining their ships in prime condition over the years was always a test of improvisation and compromise, and as a result each member of Team StarWolf had developed a personal connection with their fighter, stamping each with their mark. Panther's was the most visible with the red rose painted on his Wolfen, where Leon kept an extensive tally of his kills scratched on the lower fuselage. Wolf had simply raked his claws through the black paint of his Wolfen, leaving a series of four thin slashes underneath the canopy. By comparison, the StarFox Arwings felt coldly impersonal.

On the plus side, though, they did look a bit sleeker than the Wolfen. VenCom had reverse-engineered the Wolfen from the earlier R-16 prototypes that James McCloud's StarFox Team had flown, and it was clear that Space Dynamics had ironed out several of the rough edges (both in design and aesthetics) in the R-64 model that Wolf currently sat on.

"Do you still think about it at all?" Leon asked, strolling over to Wolf.

"About what?" Wolf rumbled as Leon hoisted himself up on the wing next to Wolf. Leon's yellow eyes and green scales seemed to glow in the sunlight as Wolf stared at him.

"About StarFox. Being the good guys," Leon shrugged, leaning back on his elbows and basking in the sunlight, "You used to think about it a lot when we were kids. Do you still think about it?"

Wolf's grey-furred ears twitched, and he looked off into the shades of the jungle.

"Nah," Wolf grunted, knowing that it wasn't entirely true. Did he think about how things could have been different, about how his life might've turned out if he hadn't run away from home to join the Venomian Army? Deep down, the answer was yes, especially with regard to the uncomfortable feelings he'd been left with after the contract on Aquas. Did it ever approach feelings of regret or remorse for the way things had turned out? No, of that Wolf was certain.

Leon narrowed his gaze at Wolf, as if he could smell something suspicious, and it looked as if he had something to say, but a crackle of static in both of their ears cut off their thoughts.

"Just thought you'd like to know, thermal scans are picking up several groups of people within eight hundred meters of your position, all moving to the west," Panther's smooth voice came over their comlinks, "It looks like troop movements."

Wolf scanned the jungle surrounding the clearing cautiously as he slid off of the fighter's wing, putting his finger to his implant.

"How many?" Wolf demanded as Leon joined him in front of the Arwings.

Over the comlink, Panther made a short humming noise before answering, "They're rolling in groups of eight to thirteen people, spaced out through the jungle. Looks like all together there's more than fifty of them."

"Where?" Wolf growled, his eye scanning the jungle.

"The nearest group is about ninety meters into the jungle south of your position," Panther replied, "Looks like a squad of seven."

"Mark 'em and send me tha' data. Focus on them an' keep us updated on what they're doing," Wolf commanded, "We're movin' to intercept."

Wolf started walking towards the jungle as an orange dot appeared in the lower left corner of the heads-up display on his implant.

"Accept data packet an' integrate inta' nav interface," Wolf mumbled, and through the blue-tinted vision of his implant he suddenly saw a diamond-shaped icon that read 87 METERS, pointing him into the depths of the jungle ahead.

"Stay close an' keep quiet," Wolf instructed, leading Leon out of the clearing and into the heavy shadows of the jungle.

"I thought we were just planting the beacon and getting out of here!" Leon hissed, shoving a low-hanging branch out of his way.

"Whoever they are, they're headed towards tha' Remnant camp," Wolf explained, "That means we find out what they're doin'."

They crept stealthily through the jungle, keeping their heads low and using the trees for cover as the distance to their target on Wolf's heads-up display counted down. His thick fur was beginning to grow damp in the humidity, and he tried to silence the huffs of breath as he panted involuntarily. He cocked his ear slightly upwards, hearing distant sounds of rustling leaves and vague noises that sounded like voices. After a moment of hearing what could've been distant conversation, Wolf heard another, harsher sound that silenced the conversation, and they stalked forward in the direction of their quarry.

As the distance read 9 METERS, Wolf and Leon looked out from behind a tree to see a squad of seven soldiers trudging through the jungle, dressed in military green uniforms with brown armor pads over their chests, thighs, knees, and forearms. The soldiers were mostly avians, with a pair of canines and a single chameleon with sand-colored scales, and all carried various models of blaster rifle. Their uniforms looked mostly improvised and pieced together, and only one or two of them wore combat helmets. On the chests and backs of each soldier's uniform was the letter V painted in vibrant red.

"They're Vs," Leon whispered, his hands twitching.

"Shit," Wolf cursed under his breath.

The Vs were Fortuna's largest guerrilla rebel group in terms of manpower, mostly dominated by native avians.

"We gotta find out for sure what they're up to. See tha' last guy in the squad?" Wolf growled into Leon's ear.

Leon nodded, eyeing the avian soldier with orange plumage taking up the rear of the group.

"Try ta' grab him without alertin' the others," Wolf instructed, "I'll cover you."

Leon breathed and nodded again, pressing a button on his belt and closing his eyes. The black material of Leon's stealth suit slowly changed to match the bright green scales of his skin, which then gradually darkened into a splotchy forest green color with an occasional brown stripe. The color of the stealth suit changed to match Leon's new skin color as he breathed deeply once again. Though Leon's specific species of reptilian could naturally change the color of their skin, it was a recessive and difficult ability that one usually had to learn from their parents. Since Leon never knew his birth parents and had been forced to learn on his own, it was remarkably difficult for him to change his skin color and always required a large amount of concentration, so he seldom used it unless it was absolutely necessary.

With his stealth suit's nanofibers keyed into the chromatophores in his scales, Leon's new dark color scheme rendered him practically invisible against the shaded green background of the surrounding jungle. Wolf gestured in the direction of the rebel squad as Leon drew a long, blackened combat knife from the belt of his stealth suit, put it between his teeth and lurked around the tree trunk.

Wolf calmly drew his modified DC-15 pistol, holding it close to his face with the tip of the bayonet blade curving out of the corner of his sight. He edged his way around the tree, peeking around as the squad of V rebels marched further into the jungle. Leon followed less than five meters behind them, lurking silently from tree to tree an abstract, verdant phantom. Wolf crouched down, darting over to the next tree ahead, trying to keep a good ten meter distance away from the rebels. Though stealth and subtlety were much more Leon's areas of expertise, Wolf knew it was their only option: The squad of rebels outnumbered them more than three to one, they were more heavily armed than either Wolf or Leon, and wore body armor that looked very functional despite the hodgepodge appearance. They were also much more at home fighting in this jungle than either of them, and they could call the other squads marching through the jungle nearby for reinforcements if they got into a fight. Just about every possible odd was against them in a direct confrontation.

But they wouldn't be expecting someone to nab the last man in their group, and with some luck they probably wouldn't even notice he was missing for a while.

Up ahead, Leon drew within about four meters of the orange-plumed avian at the end of the group, hidden from view behind a tree. Wolf observed the scales on the reptilian's face slowly darken from a forest green to a dark, rich brown, the same color as the bark of the surrounding trees. The stealth suit mirrored Leon's change of color, and soon it was nearly impossible for Wolf to distinguish his comrade from the tree itself.

Leon soundlessly lowered down to all fours, his chest, stomach and whip-like tail nearly touching the ground, and he began to scurry through an undergrowth of ferns nearby, the leaves camouflaging him as he flanked the rebel squad. Wolf hurried to another tree trunk, keeping quiet as Leon slithered up against a tree trunk ahead of the squad's path until he was standing at full height, flattening himself against the bark. His brown color scheme made Leon appear to the unobservant eye little more than an odd deformation in the tree trunk, one that all seven soldiers in the group ignored as they passed by the tree and continued to march into the forest. Wolf's fur began to stand on end as each soldier passed Leon's position, the most fragile moment at hand. He quietly snarled his teeth as his tail stiffened in a straight line out from his bottom, his muscles tensed in anticipation of something going wrong.

The orange-plumed avian trudged by and Leon fluidly came out from around the tree, moving behind the soldier and putting him in a chokehold as his tail flowed up the soldier's chest and wrapped around his beak, holding it shut. The avian's arms began to wave through the air and for a moment Wolf thought it was all over before Leon silently dragged the soldier behind a tree with the avian's neck still in the crook of his arm, using his free arm to pull the knife out of his teeth and hold the blade up to the soldier's eyeball. The avian's green eyes swelled, his breaths jetting out of the nostrils in his beak in rapid succession, Leon's tail still wrapped securely around his beak.

Wolf calmly waited for the squad to continue through the jungle for a few moments until they disappeared into the darkening depths of the rainforest, then slowly made his way over to Leon's position as the chameleon's scales gradually lightened into their usual bright green color. The avian eyed Wolf with distressed confusion and Wolf gave Leon a crooked roguish smile of satisfaction. Leon's yellow eyes lit up and he beamed for just a moment before returning his focus to the orange-feathered soldier caught in his chokehold. Wolf looked off into the distance once again to make sure that the avian's squad hadn't realized they were a man short before leveling his blaster at the rebel's forehead.

"Do you understand what I'm sayin'?" Wolf growled quietly, glaring into the avian's eyes.

His eyes still wide, the soldier looked off to the side for a moment before looking tentatively back at Wolf. He made no indication whether or not he knew what Wolf was saying.

"He might only speak Fortunan," Leon whispered, switching his knife to the hand that held the soldier in a chokehold and then pressing a button on his belt. The chameleon's stealth suit slowly reverted to its normal matte black.

"Ya' still remember how ta' speak it?"

"Can't remember the last time I tried. I can probably stumble my way through."

"Tell him ta' keep quiet an' answer our questions or he's dead."

Leon looked down for a moment in thought, mouthing something to himself, then he tilted his head so his lips were up to the avian's ears.

"Vocel nao exigida ayjura. Vocel rellondara nozzas pagantas. Noz o mataremos… ze vocel nao fazan. Entenda?" Leon hissed, his normally high voice deepening somewhat as he lilted out the words.

The avian's green eyes tilted in the direction of Leon's head, and then he looked back at Wolf and slowly nodded his head.

"Let him talk, an' try to translate for me," Wolf instructed, loosening then tightening his grip on his pistol, still holding it up to the rebel's head as he eyed the blaster rifle strapped to the avian's back. One of Leon's hands gripped onto the rebel's shoulder as the other held the knife up against his neck, then his reptilian tail slowly unwrapped itself from around the rebel's beak, traveling down and coiling tightly around the rebel's midsection.

"Are you a rebel for tha' Vs?" Wolf inquired, starting simple.

"Vocel e parte da ganguel V?" Leon whispered after a moment.

"Zin," The rebel answered.

"That means yes," Leon explained.

"Thanks, I figured as much," Wolf growled sarcastically, looking back at the avian and interrogating, "Where were you headed?"

"Onde vocel vai?" Leon translated. The orange-feathered avian breathed hard, avoiding Wolf's gaze, and Wolf rolled his eye and swiftly clubbed the avian's beak with a flat end of his blaster.

The avian's head whipped to the side and he let out a coughing yip of pain, and Wolf looked off in the distance, waiting for a moment just in case the squad had heard the rebel's cry. He saw no gun-toting guerillas running in his direction, and he sighed.

"Rellondara ou eu coltadei zuas bolas," Leon menaced in the avian's ear. Wolf had no idea what Leon had said, but he figured it was a threat from the way the rebel's eyes swelled with terror.

"Zomos encalbecodas ao acampamento don Venomianas," the avian whimpered.

"They're all headed to the Remnant camp," Leon translated.

"Why?" Wolf demanded, already figuring on the answer.

"Pongue?" Leon reflected to the avian, pressing the blade into his neck.

Wolf suddenly sniffed a pungent odor in the air, and he looked down to see a blooming dark stain run down the leg of the avian's uniform. The rebel had pissed his pants.

"Eles zao nozzas inimigrads. Algorda todos seblemos onde eles zao. Noz querenos matalos todo altes quer outra ganguel faz," the avian murmured.

"Ummm…He says they've been trying to find the Remnants and that everyone just learned where they are. The Vs are trying to take them out before another rebel group does," Leon deciphered.

Wolf stiffened at Leon's words, the white stripe of fur between his ears becoming rigid.

"Shit. Everyone knows? Not just tha' Vs?" Wolf clarified.

Leon asked the rebel in clumsy Fortunan, and the avian answered in the affirmative. A furious snarl escaped Wolf's jaws, and he eyed the blaster rifle strapped to the rebel's back.

"Kill him," Wolf growled, holstering his pistol and stepping to the side. The words had barely left Wolf's lips before Leon slashed open the rebel's throat with his knife, a gush of red bursting through the orange feathers and splattering onto the jungle floor. Leon released the avian and the body fell face first into the dirt, a dark puddle expanding out from his head that fertilized the soil.

Wolf reached down and grabbed the blaster rifle from the rebel's corpse, wresting it off his arm and feeling the weight in his hands. He didn't recognize the heavy-looking rifle with its oversized scope and its fat stock; it looked like it might've been a pre-Lylat War blaster. It would have to do.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Leon demanded as Wolf found the gas magazine and the battery cartridge for the rifle, checking the status of both.

"Change of plans, Leon," Wolf answered, looking through the blaster rifle's scope, "I'm headed for another kill zone."

"You're going to the Remnant camp? Do you have a death wish?" Leon clamored, "You heard the corpse, it's more than just the fifty rebels we _know _are going there; it's every rebel for probably a hundred klicks!"

"Yeah, that means they're not gonna care who's there, they're just gonna kill everyone they find! Includin' McCloud an' whoever's with him," Wolf retorted, cocking the rifle's safety.

"This hang-up of yours where you're the _only _one allowed to kill him is going to cost us everything and get you killed-"

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Leon," Wolf snarled, "That ain't what this is about."

"Then what _is _it about?" Leon snapped, his thin tail whipping agitatedly behind him.

Wolf flexed the claws on one of his hands, his lips pulling away from his jaws in a canine snarl.

"If those discs don't leave this planet, _that's _gonna cost us everything. Without them, it's game over: No ship, no money, and no braggin' rights. Doesn't matter if he gets away with 'em or if I take 'em off his corpse: I'm makin' sure those discs leave that camp," Wolf rumbled slowly, feeling the feral anger building up in him like fire in his veins.

Wolf glared at Leon for a bit, and the chameleon said nothing so Wolf cocked a crooked smile and added, "And yeah, now that ya' mention it, I'm feeling like kicking tha' shit outta him for screwin' with my ship on Apollo. So I guess I'm just lucky business an' pleasure line up so well."

"This _isn't _like Apollo where it's just some club filled with gangsters and junkies," Leon fumed, "We're talking about the civil war dropping a shit-storm on that camp. _Everyone _there will be trying to kill each other. Someone's got to watch your back, even if you won't. I'm coming with you."

"You're not. I don't need your help," Wolf rumbled, "Get back to tha' dropship an' keep it ready. I'm gonna need an extraction."

"Whether you think of it as me helping or just not letting you have all the fun, I'm _not _letting you walk into that alone," Leon hissed.

"You don't have a fuckin' _choice_," Wolf snarled, bringing his face close to Leon's, "I gave you an _order_. You wanna improve my chances of comin' out alive? Gimme a way out. I'll take care of the rest."

Leon's normally aloof, sadistic coldness had been replaced by a look of hot frustration and something else that Wolf couldn't read, almost as if the reptilian wanted to say something but couldn't allow the words to leave his mouth. His black shoulder pads heaved for a bit as Wolf glared him down and Leon gazed off to the side.

When the chameleon's yellow eyes looked back at Wolf, the impassioned blaze was gone, replaced by his normal disconnected calm.

"Yes, Wolf," Leon breathed quietly.

"Keep the engines hot," Wolf growled, stepping over the dead rebel's body and starting off through the trees.

"Wolf," Leon called in a measured, nasal tone.

Wolf stopped and turned to face his only friend.

"Not that I'm… concerned, but…" Leon trailed off stoically, "Try not to die. I don't think Panther and I could do this without you."

Wolf sniffed, his tail swiping through the air.

"I'll be in touch," Wolf replied, turning around and trudging into the forest, soon disappearing into the haze.

Leon stood there, wondering if this was the last time he would ever see Wolf O'Donnell. He began making his way through the jungle back to _Fang One_, thinking about all of the things that he'd wanted to say.

* * *

Colonel Kurtz shuffled back into the room, his head bowed and his naked paws joined together in a trembling prayer-like gesture as his scuffed boots sank into the decaying red carpet. Fox, Krystal and Falco stared at him, expecting the rodent to speak, only to watch him nervously inspect the torn and dirty maroon sleeve of his uniform jacket, his pink nose quivering as his eyes swelled in despair. Fox spotted a streak of white powder on the Colonel's collar, and he had to wonder if it was cotamine or something worse. Kurtz whimpered unintelligibly to himself for a moment, his hands shivering ever more violently as he looked at the state of his uniform, and Fox and Falco looked sideways at one and other, still unsure of what to make of the spaz in front of them. Krystal merely rolled her eyes, leaning against a stack of crates.

"Oohhh…. I should've been a pair of—of…ragged—claws, scuttling across floors of…" Kurtz mumbled somberly, to the point that even the two maroon-armored soldiers standing guard on either side of the doorway began to tilt their helmets toward him awkwardly.

This seemed to bring Kurtz back to lucidity, and he glanced around at everyone for a few seconds, as if confused as to where he was. Then the rat eyed the three of them and he murmured, "He—he's ready for you."

Krystal was the first to move, stepping onto the red carpet and leading them towards the shadowy doorway at the end of the room before Kurtz's shaky hands came up to stop her.

"He just, just wants to speak with _you_," Kurtz said, pointing an index finger with a broken nail at Fox, "The rest of you wait here."

Fox glanced over to Falco, who shook his head just slightly enough that only he noticed. The avian's blue eyes were tense with resistance. Fox didn't feel they had the luxury to argue.

His boots sunk into the fabric as he stepped onto the carpet, almost as if it was soaked in something, and he approached Kurtz, who moved aside and beckoned him toward the doorway.

"It's the last door on the left," Kurtz whispered.

Fox looked back to Falco, his expression cautious and alert, then at Krystal's smug and aloof visage.

"I'll be right back," Fox assured Falco, then walked past the two Remnant guards, who followed him with their eyes until he stepped through the dark doorway at the end of the carpet.

The cramped hallway felt much colder than the room he'd just left, and he felt a slight shiver run down his spine before the red fur of his bare arms began to warm him. The coldness, coupled with the darkness and the confined spaces made Fox grateful that he'd been allowed to keep both his sidearm and the blaster carbine still slung over his shoulder. It at least gave him an illusion of security and safety.

There was only one direction, straight ahead, and only one door open at the very end of the hallway, emitting only enough light for Fox to know that it was there.

Part of Fox was afraid of what he would find and what he would do when he finally met the former Venomian general. Everything he'd seen outside told him that Zaius had gone insane. The camp was full of bodies, of rebels, of civilians, maybe even some Remnants themselves. The only reason they were alive was because Zaius wanted them that way. But what Fox felt most, much stronger than fear, was the desire to confront him.

With what Zaius was clearly capable of right now, why would he care about some pardon from Corneria for what he'd done a decade ago? And why would he request that Fox deliver the pardon, as Krystal had indicated? Fox didn't know what to expect for an answer, but he hoped that it would give him some sort of clarity with everything that was going on.

He swallowed and walked down the hallway, the scraping of his boots across the ferroconcrete floor drowned out by his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Fox breathed deeply to calm himself down, but all that he could hear in the tomb-like silence of the hall was his heart beating quicker as he got closer to the doorway.

Just when he began to think himself foolish for being so unnerved, he would think back to the naked bodies hanging from the trees and the heads on the spikes outside, and his destination would seem only more haunting and maleficent.

He reached the doorway quicker than he thought he would, pausing and looking back down the corridor to where he'd entered. The entrance seemed a light-year away, a rectangle of yellow through the darkness that was almost warm compared to what was in front of him.

Fox shook the anxiety out of his head and entered the doorway.

The smell was the first thing to hit Fox as he stepped into the room. It smelled of slow death and nightmares.

The only light in the room came through the blinds of a small window facing the thickness of the jungle outside, the leaves pressed against the glass as if trying to break in. Sheets of fabric clung to the walls or draped over piles of crates like funeral shrouds.

Fox remembered years ago, the feeling of sinking dread as he flew his Arwing into the tunnels under Andross' palace at the end of the war. Like then, this was the end of the line, as deep as he could go into a world of shadows and monsters.

Against the wall, Fox could see a desk littered with old, grimy books, the light too dim to read any of the titles. Lying on top of one of the piles of books was a faded, scratched datapad, the battery nearly drained, open to display a long text document. Fox tried to read some of the document, and was able to piece together that it was some sort of military field manual. It was hard to read most of the words on the screen, however, since someone had scrawled across it in angry red paint the words STERILIZE THIS PLACE. BURN THEM ALL!

A stirring across the room got Fox's attention, and he turned to see a low table with a single cushion lying down in front of it. On the other side of the table, recessed into the wall was what appeared to be a bed, draped with yellow and green curtains that cast even deeper shadows on the figure lying on the mattress.

Cloaked in darkness, the figure coughed and sat up on the bed, nothing more than a mound in the shadows.

Fox remained still and calm, his eyes unable to penetrate the blackness, fully aware that the figure was watching him. His hands rested evenly at his sides.

"I…was there, McCloud," The figure began in a low, hoarse voice that was barely above a whisper, "I was there when the Emperor murdered your father."

Fox kept silent, clenching his hands slowly into fists, the sensation of beating on Andrew for talking about his father still fresh on his knuckles. He kept his feet planted solidly into the floor.

"He was defiant to the end," the figure mused solemnly, "But he still died screaming."

Fox swallowed, closing his eyes and clenching his fists tighter, then he recalled the image of Andrew lying on the floor in tears and hoped that it would be enough for him. When he opened his eyes, he could see the figure had shifted, sitting on the side of the bed, his features still mostly in shadow. A brown sleeved arm, ending in a large hand with dark skin and orange fur on the top emerged from the darkness, inviting him to sit down on the cushion on the other side of the table. Fox gingerly walked over to the table, sitting down cross-legged on the frayed old cushion and looking up at the figure sitting on the bed.

From the military briefings Fox remembered during the war and what little he could make out through the murkiness, he could still identify the form of General Maximilian Zaius. He was an imposing mound of a male with broad shoulders cut out of stone, though Fox supposed it could've been a combination of the darkness and his position, practically sitting on the floor looking up at him. He wore what appeared to be a brown religious robe that made his arms look like tree limbs. Fox could make out the faintest shades of orange in the thinning beard covering his face, and large nostrils hovering over an extended simian jaw, but he couldn't tell if Zaius was smiling or frowning.

As Fox shifted on the lumpy old cushion, he could hear Zaius mumble, "Have you ever considered any real freedoms? Freedoms from the opinions of others…even the opinions of yourself?"

Fox didn't answer, merely stared up at the orangutan as he leaned forward, brushing a hand across the dark flesh of his bald head.

"I can tell about you. You think of yourself as a patriot. You think of yourself as a good person, or at least you try to be. You feel…uncomfortable here. This is not a place for good people," Zaius said, "Do you feel that my methods are unsound? That I don't have good reason for what I'm doing?"

Fox wet his mouth as he looked up at the dark figure.

"I don't see any reason, at all here," Fox answered simply.

The figure made a sound, what could've been the stunted beginnings of a laugh, then it shifted in the darkness.

"How long were you in the war, McCloud?" Zaius inquired.

"We were deployed to stop the surprise attack on Corneria during the Easton Offensive, in early 1131. We were on assignments until the end of the war in '33, so it was about an even two years," Fox answered quietly, trying to remember the details of nearly a decade ago.

The shadows around the figure's head moved in a way that Fox could tell he was nodding slowly.

"I was commanding Venom's armies when we first took Macbeth in…late 1129. Since that day, I have been at war. Either in the stars or down here…in the darkness of this jungle. I have been at war for nearly fifteen years, McCloud. It will not end until the day I die," Zaius breathed, "I had a wife and a son once…a thousand centuries ago, it seems. I can barely remember their faces. They would not recognize me if I were to see them today. That is because I have seen…horrors. Horrors that they could not begin to understand. It's impossible for words to describe…what is necessary to those who do not know what…horror means. Terror is merely a fear for one's own safety. Horror…it's... it's an immune response. It's a fear that the horror will…touch you, _infect _you, and spread, until it is your existence. Until it waits beneath the surfaces of everything you loved. Horror has a face, and a way of making your face its own. Horror marks a person. It leaves an indelible trace on the people it has touched, and you, Fox McCloud, are someone who has been touched by horrors."

Fox let out a shivering breath, looking into what must've been the figure's eyes. He remembered the nightmarish visions on Temple, the sight of Corneria City in flames and filled with Aparoids, finally all the way back to the bodies in death camps on Macbeth or the stench of rotting Zonesshi seas during the war. He could not argue with the figure.

"That is why I wanted you here. I wanted to see if you had been touched as I have. You have been touched by horrors, and like me you realize that the home you fought so hard to protect does not exist anymore. You see it for the emptiness, for the hollowness that it is. Horror is my existence, and I have long since made a friend of horror, since you sent me here. It is how I survive here, slithering along the razor's edge of existence, with horror as my friend, because if not your friend, then horror is an enemy to be feared. It truly is," Zaius whispered through the shadows.

Fox swallowed, slowly fishing the datapad out of his vest and placing it on the table, turned on and open to display the Pardon For Crimes Against the Commonwealth, awaiting Zaius' signature and fingerprint.

"If that's the case, then why give up the disc? From the way Bowman described it, you wanted to make sure the ship ended up in the right hands. You don't seem so concerned with that. You don't strike me as someone who cares about a pardon for their crimes, either," Fox responded slowly.

The figure leaned forward, and Fox could make out thick orange eyebrows, wrinkled cheeks and sunken orbital sockets in the orangutan's face. He still could not see the general's eyes.

"I have been running from one horror into the arms of another for longer than I care to remember. Anything before it feels like a forgotten dream, lost like tears in the rain. I have no illusion of peace or salvation. The best I can hope for is…closure. Ridding myself of my oldest ghosts, so that I might embrace what I have become. Your friend…Kursed… feels the same way. And she has even more ghosts than I," Zaius intimated.

A rush of blood went through Fox's head at the mention of Krystal's alias. He recalled back in the jungle when she'd fought them, how she'd rebuffed him when he used her original name. If Zaius was right, Krystal's machinations were more than just her getting back at Fox for their breakup a year ago. She was trying to eliminate all ties to the Krystal he once knew and loved.

He looked pensively off to the side as Zaius' gnarled hands emerged from the gloom and picked up Fox's datapad, signing the blank space next to the signature of Robert Fitzroy with a stylus then pressing his thumb to the small biometric scanner pad near the bottom corner. The datapad let out a tinny chirp, and Zaius set it back onto the table. A moment later, one of his hands returned to the table, placing a small bronze-colored holodisc in a half-moon shaped holder on top of the datapad. Fox let out a small sigh at the sight of the disc, picking it up and looking it over for a few seconds.

He now had both discs, as well as Krystal in custody. Now all they had to do was return to the _Great Fox_, plot a course to the _Xerxes_, secure the ship and collect their massive reward. Just when it began to sound too easy, Fox reminded himself of the insanity that had occurred so far. It would be foolish to think that everything would happen without incident from now on. But, at least for now, he could start worrying about the things that had been piling up around him, like the issues with Falco and Krystal. For the first time in a while, Fox felt like he could deal with what was coming next.

He slipped the holodisc into a pocket inside of his vest, right next to the first disc they'd gotten from Bowman days ago, then picked up his datapad, deactivating it and slipping it back into another pocket inside of his vest.

He looked back up at the shadowy simian figure sitting on the bed, more like some pagan effigy or stone totem than a person. He still didn't know what to make of Zaius, or Kurtz, or what he'd seen of the Remnant camp outside. With the signing of the pardon they were all officially forgiven of their crimes against Lylat. The thought still made him feel unclean, but on the other hand he could not say with total sincerity that these were the same Venomians he'd fought against. They had evolved, distilled by circumstance into something more primal, dark and horrifying. As much as it disturbed Fox, he supposed one could argue Zaius' methods were quite sound in the context of a planetary civil war that was itself insane. Charging someone with murder here was like trying to hand out speeding tickets at a G-Zero race. It was too big, too snarled, for Fox to make a simple, absolute judgment.

The only thing he knew was that he wanted to get as far from this place as he could, and forget that it ever existed. The emptiness and superficiality of the new Lylat were things that Fox could cope with. He could not understand what it was on Fortuna that made someone capable of the things he'd seen, and he did not want to.

"When they gave you this mission, McCloud, did they tell you what to expect?" Zaius inquired.

Fox would've felt like laughing if he hadn't been thinking about the male reptilian he'd seen hanging from the tree, swaying softly in the breeze as the flies feasted on his flesh.

"Not in the slightest," he answered bleakly.

"That's the path you have chosen, McCloud. You are not a soldier, you are not an adventurer or a spy," Zaius replied in a tone that almost sounded sneering, but with a hint of pity, "You're an errand boy. A willing pawn for the straw men that control you. For the hollow, stuffed men that control your world, that live only for themselves and claim to understand the future. Their dried voices, when they whisper together, are quiet and meaningless as wind on dry grass. They are the face of the new Lylat, of the empty darkness that will grow in the heart of your world until it consumes everything, not with a bang, but with a whimper. And you have sold yourself to them, like I sold myself to the Emperor, thinking that you could do the right thing while doing the work of empty, lying charlatans that would laugh as they build their sterile new world by burying underneath it the one that came before. That is the way it is, I suppose. But, this is the way the world ends."

Fox tried to write off Zaius' words as the mad ramblings of a former enemy that blamed him for the way his life had turned out, but at the same time he could not help thinking about all the things he'd seen that told him Gillian Morrow was not to be trusted. He wanted to ask Peppy for anything he might know about the CSB director, but he doubted he would hear things that he would like.

A distant, rumbling thump from outside could suddenly be heard through the walls of the building, and Fox looked towards the window with puzzlement. Just as he dismissed it, Fox heard another thump, then another. The next one he heard was much louder, more like a crack that echoed out in the distance. His brow furrowing, Fox stood up from the cushion and looked over to the window, trying to see something through the slits of the blinds other than the leaves pressing up against the glass.

"What is that?" Fox murmured, narrowing his green eyes.

"It's death," Zaius answered hollowly.


	12. The Hollow Men

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hey, you remember when I said that this chapter was supposed to be an epic Godzilla monster of violence and mayhem? It still is. The only thing is that it was so big that I had to split it up into two different chapters so as not to screw with the pacing. I had a lot of fun with this one, it was good to do another action chapter after so much build-up and drama. This is also sort of the climax of what might be called the second act of this story, so there's sure to be interesting things to be learned and new questions to be raised, especially in the next half. Please do me a favor and review this chapter, I feel a little lost unless I know that people like what I'm writing. It also helps my thought processes when I'm writing the other chapters. Please? I love to hear from you. In the meantime, enjoy the mayhem, and the second half of this chapter should be coming very soon!-TU**  
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* * *

**-The Hollow Men-**

Fox looked back over to the figure sitting on the bed, his brow wrinkled in confusion, until there was another, much louder sound, like a clap of thunder. He could hear shouts from outside coming through the walls, along with a cacophony of popping sounds. Fox's tail went stiff, the red fur of his arms and on the back of his neck prickling like cactus needles as he suddenly realized it was _blaster_ fire.

"Just stay in here," Fox instructed, more out of habit than actual concern for Zaius' safety, hurrying towards the door. The figure on the bed did not respond, nor did it attempt to stop Fox from leaving.

Fox jogged down the hallway, making it back to the concrete entrance room with his blaster carbine in his hands and ready for action. Fox noticed that neither Colonel Kurtz nor the two Remnant soldiers that had been guarding the doorway were present.

"Something's wrong," Fox said urgently as he swept through the doorway, Falco and Krystal turning around to face him.

"Oh really, genius? I'm guessin' tha' _gunfire_ was your first hint?" Falco retorted, blaster carbine in hand.

"We have to get out of here, _now_," Krystal informed them, "The base is being advanced on virtually all sides. The perimeter mines and the hidden fences took out a few of them, but…there are a lot of them. And more on their way."

Fox glanced at Krystal, stopping himself from asking how she knew. His hand flew to his headset, activating the comlink and speaking into the microphone, "Peppy, the Remnant camp's under attack. We need any intel or support you can give us."

"Shit, I thought it was just animals or soldiers returning from patrol on the thermal scans," Peppy's voice came in over the comlink, "It's hard for me to tell how many there are and whose side who's on. Right now just stay low, work together and stay alive. I'll figure something out."

"Sweet," Falco remarked with irritation, "Anybody else got a bright idea?"

The muffled sound of an explosion and sputter of blaster fire from outside turned Falco's sarcastic grimace into an anxious frown, his azure tail feathers dipping slightly lower.

"Do you have the second disc?" Krystal inquired.

"Take a wild guess," Fox shot back dismissively, checking both his carbine and his side arm's battery and gas cartridges. He also took note of the single stun grenade he still had attached to his belt. Fox then glanced around the room, his ears perking up as if finally taking notice of the metal crates stacked all around. He approached the nearest crate and flipped the release clasps, throwing open the lid and finding an assortment of glowrods and power cells.

"Check the crates for stuff we can use," Fox instructed as a loud crash echoed through the metal walls, "Hurry!"

Both Falco and Krystal took a crate and went to work opening it as Fox grabbed another box and flipped the clasps. He looked inside to find a pile of assorted grey plates and pads with elastic straps.

"Body armor," Fox announced, slipping off his vest and fitting a breastplate over the upper torso of his flight suit.

"Found a pair of EMP grenades 'anna flashbang," Falco mentioned as he came over, holding a pair of grey spheres in his feathered hands.

"Keep them," Fox said, tightening a plate of armor over each forearm before putting his white vest back on, "And only armor up what you need to, there isn't much of it and it looks pretty cheap."

Falco fitted a pair of armor plates over his thighs as Krystal strapped a blast vest over her armorweave bodysuit, the crate now empty. They looked back at the door to the outside, the concentration of gunfire growing larger by the moment.

"So, what's tha plan here, Foxie? Sounds like tha' party's only gettin' warmed up," Falco prompted.

"Pretty simple:" Fox answered, "Stay close. Stay low. Use as much cover as possible. And, you know, don't get shot."

"Hey, ya' know, I was thinkin' the same thing. The only problem is that's more a set 'a _guidelines_ than a plan."

"Yeah. There's room to improvise. We're good at that, remember?" Fox replied, trying his best to make light of the situation. Falco glared at him dryly, just as the crashing sound of an explosion made the ground shake beneath their feet.

"Shouldda known you'd get me shot one 'a these days, Academy boy," Falco griped flatly, "Told ya' we should've brought tha' chain gun."

"So, I suppose I just run out there with the two of you, unarmed and hope for the best?" Krystal prompted dubiously, "At what point do you listen to your survival instincts and give the guns back to the psychic girl with perfect aim?"

"About tha' same time we trust you," Falco returned, "Oh right, we did. Then ya' stole our stuff an' fucked with our ship."

"You've got armor. Stay close to us and keep your head down," Fox instructed her, "Use your powers to throw off their aim if you can. We'll protect you until we get back to the ship. Then the binder cuffs go right back on."

"Are you _serious_?" Krystal demanded, "You'll _protect _me?"

"Not like we haven't done it before," Falco shrugged, "You used ta' _love _gettin' rescued back when you were on tha' team, remember? _Before_ ya' were a bitch?"

"Shut up," the vixen hissed, the blue fur on her bottlebrush tail stiffening as she turned to Fox, "Think about this, Fox. Three shooters are better than two."

"Not when number three shoots the other two in the back," Fox retorted with ice in his voice, "This isn't a negotiation. You either come with us unarmed or you're on your own unarmed. It's your choice."

"_Eteyudo_," Krystal forced out syllable by syllable, rolling her eyes in disgust. He ignored her.

"You ready?" Fox asked Falco, holding his carbine up as a crosshair display appeared on the green scouter over his eye.

The avian pressed the butt of the carbine into his shoulder, focusing on the targeting display through his scouter as he aimed at the door to the outside. The sounds of blaster fire grew louder.

"Bout as ready as I can be, fuzzball," Falco grumbled, the lower jaw of his yellow beak tightening.

"Famous last words," Krystal muttered flatly.

Fox kicked the door open and they stormed outside into a wall of heat and sound. Screams, explosions and the chattering pop of automatic fire filled the air as red and green blaster bolts whizzed through the surrounding trees in every direction. The three of them stayed low as they ran past the eighteen posts mounted with decapitated heads, taking cover against a huge tree trunk with Fox facing one direction and Falco facing the other. A Venomian battle droid with a square photoreceptor unit in the place of a head stormed past, indifferent to the flames that covered its back as it raised its arm-mounted blaster cannon and unleashed a burst of crimson blaster bolts. The droid went down as a hail of green blasts peppered its torso, and a group of three soldiers in green uniforms with brown armor pads rushed towards the building, running for cover as a pair of maroon-armored Remnant soldiers fired from around one of the building's corners. One of the rebel soldiers fell to the ground with a scream as the other two made it behind a tree stump and returned fire. Far off, Fox saw a soldier armed with an incinerator blasting a jet of flame into a dug-out defensive position, bathing the Remnant soldiers below in fire. Blaster bolts tore through the foliage like a meteor shower, spraying from all directions and plowing into tree trunks and dirt with puffs of sparks. The foggy, shadowed distances all around made it impossible to tell where the enemy was, the shots seemed to be fired by the mist itself. In another direction, Fox could see part of the camoflauge netting strung through the trees engulfed in flames, raining down fiery bits like glowflies onto the forest floor. Over his shoulder, Krystal shoved her back into the tree trunk with a scowl of indignant frenzy, scanning the area for possible threats and finding them _everywhere_.

"Can you distract or put off their aim with your powers?" Fox called over the cacophony of screams and gunfire.

"I'm _trying_!" Krystal barked back, her cyan eyes burning, "There's too many of them! Give me a weapon!"

"No!" Fox snapped, "Sense the safest way out for us, we have to get the fuck outta-"

"GRENADE!" Falco bellowed as a grey cylinder bounced across the ground and Fox grabbed hold of Krystal's arm, yanking her away from the tree and sprinting around the trunk with Falco, leaping over the maroon-armored corpse of a Remnant soldier.

Fox heard a bombastic boom just behind that stung his ears and filled them with a ringing that drowned all else as dirt rained down on them; the screams and crashes silenced in the temporary deafness as adrenaline surged through his veins and his heart slammed in his chest. Time slowed to a crawl in that moment of disorienting deafness, and Fox observed the scene around them with the disconnection of watching a holodrama: the smoking bodies of red-armored Remnants and green-suited rebels littered the ground as their living counterparts ran or fought on top of them, taking cover then charging madly forward with laser blasts spewing from their rifles. Flashes of blue, red and green streaked through the air, tearing into soldiers or tree trunks or lancing into the distant mists. A bolt of red grazed Falco's shoulder as the avian fired blindly in a wide arc in front of them, his beak wide open in a yell as he laid down covering fire. A Remnant soldier perched in a tree used his rifle to blow the face off a rebel standing a meter away from them an instant before rebels on the ground perforated the sniper with blue blaster shots. Further away, a camoflauged blaster turret sprayed green bolts into a squad of rebel soldiers, cutting five of them down seconds before a missile blew the turret apart in a cloud of fire and debris.

Time sped up and the ringing in his ears gave way to muffled sounds as the three of them took cover near an assortment of metal 200-liter drums stacked against a curving barracks building, with Krystal angrily pushing herself into a corner as Fox and Falco crouched on either side of her, trying to minimize their target profile.

Ragged breaths were coming out of Falco's beak as the avian scanned the frenzied fight scene, his eyes bulging with adrenaline and tension. The avian glanced over to the streak of blackened feathers on his upper arm where the blaster bolt had grazed him, dismissing it after a second.  
"You want the reflector?" Fox directed, cautiously looking in the other direction as a Venomian battle droid fifty meters away opened fire on a group of rebels.

"You're better with it," Falco brushed off.

"If you can sense where they are, we need a safe way out," Fox growled at Krystal, "Just point us to the next area of cover; we'll move using short rushes."

"I can't do all of that and still direct their attention away from us, especially when I'm running around like a living target!" Krystal snapped, eyeing the twin pistols stuffed in the large pouch on Falco's vest.

"Yo, I'm fixin' ta' use you for a fuckin' _shield_ if ya' don't shut it," Falco menaced, "Just get us tha' fuck outta here."

"Up ahead, across the path and take cover behind the hovertank wreck," Krystal shot out, "Hurry they've got assault skimmers com-"

A burst of sparks was the only warning that Fox got as a pair of crimson blaster bolts tore past his face and pounded into the durasteel building walls behind him, and he snapped his head in the direction of the shots to see a group of three maroon-armored Remnant soldiers opening fire from a catwalk mounted on the tree above. Falco cursed and swung his carbine up towards the catwalk, sputtering out three green blaster bolts as the Remnants fired back, red beams tearing into the dirt and walls around them when Fox pulled the trigger, the carbine in his hands jarring into his shoulder as green streaked into the catwalk under their feet.

A bolt of red flashed forward and there was searing heat in Fox's chest that threw him backwards into a storage drum, the air punched out of his lungs. Dazed and stinging, Fox stared at the smoking scorch mark on the breastplate under his vest and wondered if he was dying.

"You're fine, get up!" Krystal yelled, shoving him back onto his feet and bringing him back to his senses.

Fox fired his carbine, the blaster fire producing a series of sparks as they hit the catwalk, one of the Remnant soldiers letting out a cry as a green bolt pounded into the armor on his shin. He swatted the button on his reflector and the hexagonal blue shield flashed in front of him just as the Remnants fired. Their crimson blaster bolts bounced right back, hitting one in the stomach and another in the chest, throwing him over the catwalk railing screaming to the ground. The reflector field disappeared and Falco lined up the shot in the crosshairs on his scouter, firing a burst that hit the last standing Remnant soldier in the leg and stomach, then firing another that hit him square in the chest and dropped him to the catwalk in a heap.

"What tha' fuck are they doin shooting at us?" Falco squawked.

"They were attacked within an _hour _of our arrival; they probably blame _us_," Krystal replied.

"More reason to get the hell out of here!" Fox commanded, grabbing Falco's shoulder, "Take her and rush for the hovertank, I'll cover you. MOVE!"

Without looking back, Falco grabbed Krystal by the arm and bolted along the side of the building, coming up to the path as Fox stared through the crosshairs of his scouter, covering their rush. A green-suited avian with brown armor pads came out from behind a tree, bringing a cheap-looking blaster rifle to bear on Falco and Krystal as Fox lined up his crosshairs with the red V painted on the rebel's chest and pulled the trigger. The carbine spat a burst of three green bolts, hitting the red V with a burst of sparks and throwing the rebel to the ground as a pair of Remnant soldiers dashed behind a nearby tree with their backs to Fox, fleeing a hail of blaster fire from another attacker and spotting the blue vixen and avian.

Before the maroon-clad troopers could raise their long blaster rifles, Fox let off a series of three bursts into their backs that slammed them up against the tree and crumpled them into a pile on the ground.

Falco and Krystal reached the hovertank wreckage, taking cover between the black armored hulk and the tree it was propped against, and Falco fired a few shots at an assailant that Fox couldn't see before crouching out of the line of fire and giving Fox the thumbs-up signal.

Fox breathed as his wingman began taking potshots at any enemy in sight, trying to direct attention on himself so that the path would be relatively clear for Fox to join them. He wiped away some of the sweat soaking the fur of his brow as his heart thumped in his chest, and he could swear that he heard the loud whining of large servomotors somewhere up ahead. Gripping the handle of his carbine tight, Fox charged along the edge of the curving barracks building, his eyes darting in every direction looking for where the next threat was coming from, and he almost didn't notice the whine of servomotors growing louder or the stomping sounds as the ground trembled under his feet. A blaster bolt flashed through the air in front of him and Fox threw himself behind a generator, nothing between him and the hovertank wreckage but nearly seven meters of open path. He stared at Falco and Krystal, trying to time his sprint right as blaster bolts whizzed in every direction, then the ground shook again with a motorized whine as the bipedal Venomian fighting mech stomped into view, the words OUR MOTTO: APOCALYPSE NOW bright white on its leg as the sloping, beak-like cockpit chassis rotated to face over Fox's head.

The mech's chicken-like legs came to a stop on the path between Falco's position and Fox's, brandishing the missile pods and heavy blaster cannons mounted on both sides of its head as dozens of green and blue blaster bolts began to pound into its armor plating. Fox and Falco locked eyes, unsure what to do. The missile pods on the mech whistled and roared as they fired, streaking high over Fox's head and producing rumbling explosions in the distance. Unseen enemies from all around continued to pepper the mech with laser fire, and the twin blaster cannons unleashed bright green bolts into the depths of the rainforest and the camp, tearing skycar-sized chunks out of trees and boring craters into the dirt. As the mech's missile pods fired once again and Fox considered making a run for the hovertank between the two enormous legs, a rocket streaked through the air and plowed into the chassis under the cockpit with a cracking bang and a burst of fire. The mech stumbled a half-step backwards with smoke billowing out from the point of the impact, a loud grinding accompanying the servomotor whines as Fox spotted a rebel coming around the corner of the building less than two meters away from him. Fox shot the rebel in the chest and head with his carbine, dropping him to the dirt as the mech fired its lasers and emptied its missile pods in the direction of the mech ceased firing for a moment and another rocket soared through the air, piercing the mech's transparisteel cockpit viewport with another deafening blast of noise and fire, shearing one of the missile pods off its head and sending it tumbling down on Fox.

Fox gave out a yell as he dove forward into the dirt, rolling as the missile pod crashed into his former hiding place and the fighting mech staggered another half-step backwards with smoke and flames gushing from its head. Fox got to his feet and dashed towards the hovertank, making three strides before the dead mech fell forward with a grinding whine. He whipped around and bolted out of the way, twisting his ankle in the process as the mech crashed face first into the jungle floor at the foot of a huge tree. He didn't even notice the aching pain in his foot, near breathless as he realized he was both exposed and blocked from joining Falco and Krystal by the body of the massive war machine. Fox got down low and made a beeline back to the stack of drums against the barracks building as blaster bolts tore into the tree trunk next to him. He reached the drums and took cover just as he heard his headset crackle and Falco's voice in his ear.

"Fox! You alright?" the avian's rough voice came over the comm.

"I'm not injured and I've taken cover," Fox replied into the microphone, "Can you guys move from where you are?"

"Yeah, we're comin' to get ya' right now."

"Negative. We'd have to find a way around and we'd both be exposed too long. Stay with Krystal, I'll find a way out."

"Are you fuckin' crazy?" Falco demanded, "We had a snowball's chance when it was tha' three of us, you're not gonna make it alone!"

"That's an _order_ to get the hell out of here."

"Fuck you and your orders!"

"I can't argue, Falco! Go! NOW!" Fox ordered, "Disconnect local comm. channel and isolate to _Great Fox_."

"Goddamn it! Fox-!" Falco yelled before his voice was cut off by a burst of static.

"Peppy, do you copy?" Fox called.

"I'm here, Fox," Peppy returned over the comlink.

"I'm separated from Falco and Krystal; I need an eye in the sky," Fox explained, shrinking into the corner to keep hidden as he looked up to the rainforest canopy above.

"The trees and humidity are obscuring the thermal scans, same thing with visuals," Peppy replied, "I've got yours and Falco's position, though."

"I need something to head towards! I'm just stuck here!" Fox yelled.

"Okay, G-anomaly scans are picking something up; I think it's an escape tunnel. It links up to what should be a building thirty meters southwest of you; that looks like your best bet. The batteries have a firing solution on the camp, just give me a target and I'll take it out. And I've already sent Slippy to the hangar to prep his Arwing," Peppy informed him.

"I don't need heavy artillery, I need a way out. Slippy flying in won't help extract us, it'll be just one more of us at risk," Fox countered, "Mark the tunnel access on my heads-up and let me know if anything changes."

"I'm working on ways to get you out of there, Fox; it's going to take a few minutes, just hold on."

"I'll be _dead _in a few minutes, Peppy! Just stay on the line and keep me updated! I've got to move! Fox out," Fox sent back, looking around the edge of the barracks building as a blue dot appeared on his heads-up display, marking a point somewhere in the distance of the camp that was currently thirty one meters away. The nearest point of cover was a group of large tree trunks, before opening up to another part of the camp that would doubtless be full of enemies.

Blaster bolts hissed through the air between the trees, lighting up the shades cast by the rainforest canopy overhead. Thirty one meters under these circumstances might as well be thirty one kilometers. Each step presented another way to die.

Fox gripped his carbine tightly, his heart thudding madly in his chest as he gritted his teeth.

He was _not _going to die here in this awful place. Not after coming so far. He darted out from behind the drums and took cover behind the nearest tree.

* * *

There was a reason Falco Lombardi was considered the ace pilot of Team StarFox: Despite his skills on foot in hand-to-hand combat, he was instinctively much more at home in the air, at the stick of his Arwing. No one could touch him in the skies. The same could not be said on the ground. The disaster at Club Glamorama had been manageable for Falco, but he still ended up getting thrown clear across the room and knocked unconscious.

Here, though he would barely admit it to himself, Falco was in over his head.

Still uncertain what to do after Fox disconnected the comms channel; he stared at the smoking wreckage of the fighting mech once more as a nearby explosion shook the ground.

"Which way now?" Falco demanded, looking at Krystal.

"It's just the two of us now. You said yourself the odds were bad when we had Fox, and now they're even worse. Hand me my guns back and we may have a fighting chance," Krystal instructed.

"Tell me where we're headed or I'm fuckin' leaving ya, bitch," Falco retorted.

Krystal rolled her eyes with a loathing purse of her lips, and then glanced around the corner of the hovertank wreckage, leering back at him disdainfully.

"Around the corner; there's a group of ferns between a tree and a sensor node. I want my guns," Krystal snarled.

"Shut up an' stay tha' fuck down!" Falco's beak snapped, then he slid out from behind the hovertank to behold a group of three Remnant soldiers charging in his direction mere meters away. Falco swore and pulled the trigger, blasting a three-shot burst into the chest of one of the Remnant soldiers as he lurched backwards. As their comrade hit the ground, the other two soldiers fired red laser bolts from their rifles, missing Falco by millimeters as he shot another Remnant in the shoulder and head before making it back behind the hovertank. The last soldier kept firing at the hovertank's armor near where Falco's position, bursts of sparks flying out as the red beams pounded into the metal. He was pinned down, and it would be moments before the soldier called for reinforcements.

Falco cursed, trying for an opportunity to return fire and finding none, his beak clenched together with tension when the blaster fire suddenly stopped with an oddly loud crack. He got low and looked around the edge of the hovertank to see the soldier limp on the dirt, his head twisted around far more than should have been possible, with Krystal standing over the body.

"I want my _guns_," Krystal snarled.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Falco snapped.

"Do I _look _like I'm kidding you?" she shrieked, glaring into him with her cyan eyes.

They fumed at each other for a few more seconds as Falco begrudgingly considered that, as much as he distrusted her, they both very much wanted to get out alive. If it was near impossible for Fox to make it out on his own, it was even more impossible for him to do so while dragging along an unarmed prisoner. Working together, they had a shot. He opened up the pouch in his blast vest and withdrew the DC-15 blasters, the electrostaff and the combat knife that he'd confiscated from Krystal, handing them over. She attached the knife to her belt and put the electrostaff in the scabbard on her back, then twirled her twin pistols around her fingers before gripping the handles hard.

"Best decision you've made in weeks," Krystal smirked.

"We'll see about that," Falco returned, "Let's book."

Krystal nodded and they sprinted off towards the next tree, a scanning, multi-eyed sensor node visible in the distance as screams and gunfire filled the air. They'd barely made it a few meters before a burst of blue and green flashed across their path, and Falco dove behind the tree with Krystal. Blaster bolts whittled into the bark with muffled thumps as Falco edged around the trunk to see four rebels with ovaloid grey helmets on their heads and red Vs on their chest, all firing at the tree and shouting in accented Fortunan.

"Draw their fire! I've got them!" Krystal yelled over the loud popping of blasters, and Falco leaned out from behind the tree with a growl and let off shots in the direction of the rebel squad. The rebels drew back near a huge log, evading the verdant blasts from Falco's carbine before returning fire, chewing into the bark near Falco's face with bursts of blue and green. A streak of blue flashed in front of Falco's eyes, burning a chunk out of the tree and throwing sparks in his face. He cursed and drew back, squinting his eyes and quickly wiping the charred splinters off his feathers as Krystal leaned out from behind the other side of the trunk and fired off one, two, three shots from her pistols, nailing one rebel in the chest and face and grazing another one's shoulder. The rebels began firing at her position too, and Falco breathed as slid around the trunk to return fire.

"Look out!" Krystal shouted, grabbing Falco's collar and yanking him backwards as a red blaster bolt plowed into the space where his head used to be.

Falco glanced in the direction of the shot to see a pair of Remnant soldiers making their way down the path behind them, blaster rifles at the ready. Krystal's heavy blaster barked as blue light streaked out from the end, indifferent to the red beams flashing millimeters past her face. Still leaning back against Krystal's body, Falco brought up the carbine and shot at the other Remnant, firing the three-round burst into the armor over the rodent soldier's stomach. The rodent went down with a scream while his comrade limped to cover, almost making it to the shelter of a thick tangle of ferns before Krystal put a pair of shots in his back.

Breathing hard as Krystal shoved him back onto his feet, Falco edged around the tree trunk to deal with the three remaining rebel soldiers they'd been firing at.

"Queiimaz!" was all that Falco heard as he beheld the three rebels advancing behind a tall equine in brown armor. The equine rebel held a long grey gun connected by a hose to a pair of tanks on his back, and a jet of blue flame flickered at the end of the barrel.

"Fuck!" Falco yelled, falling back behind the tree as a large cone of orange flames burst out of the incinerator unit, flowing around the trunk like a river showering the tree in fire. The pungent smell of fuel filled Falco's nose as heat toasted his feathers, and he sprinted away from the flaming tree with Krystal, charging for the cover of a worn old stump as the blue vixen disappeared into the forest.

Falco swore and spat as she vanished into the trees, loathing the fact that he didn't just shoot her when he had the chance, as the rebels came around the flaming tree brandishing their weapons. Falco popped up and let off a burst of fire that plinked off the equine's thick armor, diving down into the dirt as the incinerator unit came up and blaster bolts streamed around Falco's head. A cone of flames burst over Falco's back, licking the air overhead before vanishing into a cloud of thick black smoke. His feathered fingers dug into the metal of his carbine as he coughed, rolling over and bringing his carbine up, mentally prepared for the rush of the other three rebels that would bring his death.

Two bright blue needles of light lanced through the trees, the first absorbed by the rudimentary deflector shield generator protecting the fuel tanks on the equine's back, the second piercing the fuel tanks themselves. There was a yell of panic before a crack and a whoosh of flame, and Falco peered up from behind the stump to see the large equine and two of the rebel soldiers covered in fire, stumbling and waving their arms wildly as the third rebel frantically slapped at his own arm to put out the fire on his shoulder. Krystal darted out from the foliage to the left, both of her pistols held out in front of her, and fired multiple blue shots into the nearest burning rebel. The rebel went down, his body still aflame, and Krystal kicked the third rebel in the chest as he put out the flames on his shoulder, throwing him off his feet. The vixen vigilante held up her guns, one to the remaining flaming soldier and another to the stunned rebel on the jungle floor, blasting each in the head as the tall equine collapsed to the dirt with a wail of agony, the stench of his burning flesh smelling to Falco like charcoal, sulfur and copper, with the greasy odor of burnt fat.

The avian got to his feet and ran over to Krystal, not bothering to thank her as they sprinted in the direction of the sensor node. The thundering sound of a heavy laser turret being fired rumbled through the humid air as they reached the sensor node, a quietly whirring dark metal mass of scanner lenses and antennas.

"How much more?" Falco inquired as he and Krystal crouched down in a fern-filled ditch between the sensor node and a moss-covered tree trunk.

"Not much; we're close to a section of the perimeter fence and the minefield. It'll be tricky to negotiate. It's a monofilament screen that's hard to see, and if we run into the wires they'll shred us like cheese. The minefield still has a fair share of mines left in it, and I can steer us around them but we'll be going too slow to avoid fire," Krystal explained.

"Where's tha' next cover?" Falco interrogated, glancing cautiously around as the sound of blaster shots continued to ring out around them. Krystal brushed a fern out of the way and looked into the distance, squinting for a moment before crouching back down into the ditch.

"About seven meters ahead. There's a slit-trench dug out a few meters before a hedgerow that wraps around the trees. The hedgerow is hiding a section of the screen fence," Krystal explained, gulping.

In a quick respite from the insanity blazing around them, Falco's eyes caught the soft, delicately featured face of the vixen in front of him. The small mouth with her pouty lips, slender jaw and soft cheekbones, the pleasantly rounded ears and the natural blend of blue and white colored fur on her face, all contributed to the comely visage that could play the roles of femme fatale and damsel in distress with equal aplomb. She reminded him of Katt, though Falco was sure there wasn't _that _much resemblance. Perhaps that was a reason Falco distrusted her so, knowing full well how much damage a female like Krystal could do to the male ensnared in her charms. For a moment, he regretted giving her weapons back, and wondered how he was going to disarm her when it came time to put the binder cuffs back on.

"Hello? Are you deaf? We can't stay here," Krystal growled impatiently, snapping Falco out of his reverie.

"That hedge's gotta be at least two meters high. How're we gettin' past tha' screen?"

"You'll have to think of that one. I'm drawing a blank," she whispered.

"Hell of a time ta' run outta ideas," Falco quipped as Krystal's eyes swelled in alarm.

"Run! Now!" Krystal yelled, bolting from the ferns as laser beams pounded into the sensor node. Falco leapt from cover, sprinting after Krystal as shouts and blaster fire sounded after them. He could see the sand bags rimming the slit-trench beginning to emerge through the mists up ahead, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder to see a handful of rebels of various species running through the trees after them, green and blue bolts flashing randomly out of the ends of their rifles. Up ahead, Krystal threw herself behind a tree as a flash of deadly green lanced past her hip, and Falco ran faster, his knees burning as a red bolt streaked past his side. He was almost behind the protection of the tree when something struck his back like a hammer made of fire, throwing him to his knees with an aching burn in his spine. Falco gave out a groan of agony for a moment as bolts swept through the air and blasted into the dirt around him, and he crawled on his hands and knees behind the shelter of the tree. He felt the smoldering scorch mark on the rear of his blast vest, still holding up, and dragged himself to his feet, feeling little more than a hot ache in the small of his back. Falco pressed up against the tree beside Krystal, who squeezed the handles of her pistols tightly as she gritted her teeth.

"There are nine of them, all with a line on our position," Krystal growled, "Soon they'll spread and outflank us. Now would be a great time to do your part to keep us breathing."

Falco shifted against the tree, peering out from behind the trunk to see the group of rebels beginning to fan out, maintaining their aim on the tree they were hiding behind. The thick, moist air around him was weighing him down, making it hard to think, the forest canopy above making the shadows around progressively darker. Falco could feel his chest heaving up and down as his mind raced, and he spotted the flashbang and the two EMP grenades he'd picked up clipped to his belt. Though most modern military-grade blasters were insulated against permanent damage from electromagnetic radiation, a pulse would still temporarily short out the inner workings of the blaster, requiring the removal and reinsertion of the battery in order for it to work again. Falco was willing to bet that such a circumstance would be especially beneficial if their enemies couldn't _see _enough to fix their guns.

"How's _this _for doin' my part?" Falco muttered, letting his carbine hang by the strap over his shoulder as he held up an EMP grenade and a flashbang and tore the pins out with his beak, "Gimme some cover an' get ready ta' cycle out your batteries."

Krystal nodded and leaned out from behind the tree with her pistols, firing bright blue bolts at the general direction of their enemies as beams of green and blue erupted from their rifles in return. Crouching low, Falco peeked out from the other side of the tree and lobbed both grenades into the air, getting back behind the trunk and hoping he'd thrown the EMP grenade far enough to affect their guns more than his. Krystal took cover with him and there was a loud, cracking explosion and a flash of white light, and the crosshairs in Falco's scouter became garbled and distorted as his headset comlink produced a high-pitched whine. The small battery gage on Falco's carbine went dark and he quickly ejected the battery from its housing in the gun's grip, slapping it back into place as Krystal fluidly snapped the batteries out of her pistols and put them back in. The crosshairs through his scouter returned to normal as he whipped out from behind the tree and beheld the group of nine rebel soldiers scattered before him, stumbling blindly from the effects of the flash grenade or blindly trying to fire at them, confused at why their guns weren't working.

His heart skipped a beat as he squeezed the trigger, not knowing what would happen, and a rush of joy flowed through him as the carbine spat out a three-shot burst into the nearest disoriented rebel. Krystal and Falco made quick work of the rebels, mowing them down with blaster fire in a matter of seconds before taking cover back behind the tree.

"Quickly, we have to get to the trench. Something's coming," Krystal informed him hurriedly. Growing louder by the moment, Falco could hear the gargling chirp of repulsorlift engines, and he nodded, sprinting off towards the sandbags of the slit-trench and the hedgerow beyond it. The distant explosions and pops of blaster fire made Falco begin to think that the battle was practically behind them just as the squeaking shriek of high-powered laser cannons fired twin red beams into the dirt between them and the trench, carving twin craters into the forest floor with a burst of soil.

Falco glanced over his shoulder to see a long, silver and black vehicle hovering through the air, like a G-Zero racer or a stripped-down starfighter, with a single cockpit seat sunken into the fuselage and a helmeted rebel soldier at the controls. On each side of the vehicle was a stubby silver wing angled downwards, tipped with a blaster cannon and a concussion grenade launcher. It was an armored assault skimmer, a light fast-attack vehicle that was designed for anti-personnel and hit-and-run tactics. There was nothing between the skimmer's guns and where Falco was running.

The skimmer's twin blasters shrieked, spitting out ruby beams over and over again as Falco tore towards the trench, feeling the heat each time a bolt streaked by his arms, the adrenaline slowing time down and making each gallop a graceful, measured stride. Out of the corner of his eye Krystal sailed into view, her teeth bared in a fierce snarl and a rabid burning in her eyes as she fired shot after shot from her pistols into the assault skimmer's deflector shields.

The shields became visible as a rippling transparent green bubble with every shot that hit, shrugging off Krystal's attacks as the cannons continued to open fire on Falco. Almost in slow motion, Falco saw a crimson bolt flash out of the skimmer's cannon and slice across his left hip, tightening his leg and sending burning pain up his side. His boot slid across the ground and he fell forward, crashing into the dirt with a grunt and burying half of his face into the soil. The grenade launcher on one of the wings belched as it fired, and then Falco felt the ground tremble under his body as he went limp, desperately playing dead. The skimmer rotated in the air to face Krystal as she holstered her pistols and tore her electrostaff out of the scabbard on her back. The metal stick in her hands extended to almost two meters in length, purple arcs of electricity crackling out of each end as the vixen whirled the staff through the air over her head with a howl, diving forward as the assault skimmer fired red blasts. Krystal rolled across the dirt underneath the skimmer, her hair writhing as if alive in the skimmer's invisible repulsor field as she stabbed one end of her staff into the skimmer's underside. There was a sizzling pop of sparks and the skimmer hopped a meter or so in the air, trembling violently before rising up towards the rainforest canopy and drifting backwards.

Krystal sprinted over as Falco picked himself up from the dirt with a wince of pain, the scorched black line across his hip burning dully.

"It's just stunned, it's coming back!" she cried urgently, leading him in the direction of the slit-trench as he half-ran, half limped after her.

"Don't stop, just go through tha' hole!" Falco ordered, gesturing to the open space that the skimmer's grenade launcher had blasted into the hedgerow and the monofilament screen that it disguised.

Krystal ran past the trench and leapt through the hole, followed quickly by Falco as he held his carbine in one hand and covered the searing blaster wound on his hip with the other. Already, he could hear the purring repulsor engines of the skimmer growing close behind them.

Falco stumbled across the ground through the tall hedge for a moment and glanced around with confusion before Krystal grabbed his arm and pulled him down behind the other side of the hedge, taking cover right by the gap. The avian hissed at the burning ache in his hip and opened his beak to yell at her for stopping when the skimmer was right behind them, but Krystal cut him off quietly, "We can't just run for it; there's still a minefield out there. We can't navigate it with that skimmer on our tail."

Falco slowly closed his beak and gave a single nod, shuffling into a more tolerable position next to her up against the hedge.

"So how we dealin' with that?" Falco whispered.

"I'll tell you when I think of something," Krystal murmured as the purring repulsorlift engine sounds grew louder.

The shrub began to shake and Falco could feel his feathers ruffling on their own as the assault skimmer floated three meters over their heads, slowly scrutinizing the scene and hunting for them. The skimmer hovered forward, the helmet of the pilot just visible turning to and fro as he searched for signs of his quarry, the ferns and sparse foliage of the ground writhing underneath the vehicle.

Falco breathed quietly, hearing his heart beat in his ears as his blue eyes locked on the skimmer. As his eyes drifted onto the plants contorting in the skimmer's repulsor field, a thought occurred to Falco and the fleshy corners of his beak turned upwards in a smile.

"Where's tha nearest active mine in tha' field?" Falco whispered.

"What?" Krystal mouthed, not understanding.

"Tha' minefield's right _there_, right? Use your hocus pocus ta' find tha' nearest one," Falco hissed.

Her brow furrowing, Krystal gazed out at the forest floor for a few moments, then pointed to a withering brown fern convulsing in the skimmer's repulsor field.

"It's right under there, I don't know if you can see it-"

"I see it fine; I got better eyesight than _you_, princess," Falco cut off, spotting the three-prongs of the mine's metal pressure fuse in the dirt under the fern with his keen raptor's eyes.

"Mark current target," Falco whispered into his headset, watching as a red dot appeared in his scouter over the mine's pressure fuse. He then instructed Krystal to point out the next two mines, and he proceeded to mark them with his headset as well, his mind always on the assault skimmer hovering mere meters away, still not aware of their existence.

"Okay, when I do this, ya got about four meters ta' get to the underside an' hit it like last time. Then we're runnin' like hell through that minefield with you guidin' me. Can ya do it?" Falco whispered.

"You know I _could _just run through the minefield myself and leave you to occupy the skimmer when it recovers," Krystal smirked, "That would be a lot easier, don't you think?"

Falco glared at her, his beak tightening.

"If we're takin' tha' _easy _way out, why not get that thing's attention an' let it fry both of us?" Falco growled, drawing his pistol and leveling it at the back of the skimmer.

Krystal's eyes were cool as ever.

"You're bluffing," she whispered.

The avian's beak came closer to her face.

"All that time bein' some hardcore badass, you musta forgotten why _I _was always tha' crazy one. I'm all for gettin' outta here alive, but if it's gonna be like that I'll die laughing just ta' make sure your ass comes with me. Look in my head an' see. My life don't mean that much. Especially when it comes ta' provin' a stupid point," Falco returned darkly.

The aloof look in Krystal's eyes faded, and the smirk fell just a bit. Falco suppressed an urge to laugh in her face.

"Right then. We'll do it your way," she conceded quietly.

"Then get ready ta' haul some ass," Falco smirked.

He looked over his shoulder to see the skimmer hovering in the perfect position, right between the three dots marked on his scouter, and he breathed, rose to full height and raised his blaster pistol.

Narrowing his eyes for a moment, Falco pulled the trigger with the crosshairs aligned on the closest dot, a blue bolt flashing from the end and pounding into the dirt. There was a dull thumping sound as the mine shot into the air out of the ground, coming to full height right next to the floating skimmer and blasting apart in a black burst of shrapnel. The skimmer shuddered in the air and Falco shot the other two dots with a snap of his arm, two mines vaulting up and exploding right next to the vehicle. He could hear the pilot yell in pain and alarm as the skimmer rocked in the explosion, and Krystal tore past him with her electrostaff sparking and ready. The vixen slid underneath the skimmer, thrusting the staff into the undercarriage and producing a spark and computerized alarms from the skimmer itself. The vehicle hopped up into the air, wobbling wildly as Falco grabbed onto Krystal's arm and they took off into the forest, zig-zagging through the minefield as the skimmer's blaster cannons and grenade launchers spoke.

Crimson blaster bolts tore into the surrounding trees as grenades plowed into the dirt and exploded, triggering mines that bounded into the air and blew themselves apart in clouds of black shrapnel. It was a miracle they weren't hit.

Krystal dragged him down another turn of their serpentine path, then let go and yelled, "We're clear of the mines! Just run!"

Falco didn't need to be told twice, letting go of her hand and sprinting into the trees next to her, grabbing the last EMP grenade from his belt and yanking the pin out. A ruby laser bolt tore through the air over his head, and he whipped around to see the assault skimmer sailing through the air meters over the ground, only to pause as it came to a pair of trees that were too close together for it to pass through.

Falco threw the grenade in between the trees, stomping his feet into the ground as he tore through the jungle, hearing a popping sizzle as the grenade went off underneath the skimmer, then a crash as the vehicle's repulsorlift failed and it dropped to the ground.

Falco and Krystal kept running, leaping over a log and splashing through a puddle before slowing to a stop with their hands on their knees, breathing heavily. They looked at each other, not fondly, but still shared the mutual relief of having escaped the camp. They said nothing to one and other. As Falco caught his breath, he looked back through the forest, where the sounds of mayhem and death could still be heard echoing from the camp. As much as he tried not to worry, he could not see how anyone, even Fox, could hope to escape it on their own.

"Yo, Peppy, I'm clear of tha' camp. I got tha' girl with me," Falco spoke into the microphone on his headset as they began their trudge through the jungle towards the landing zone.

"Good to hear from you," Peppy's heavy, raspy voice came over the comlink, "You injured?"

Falco examined the scorch marks on his upper arm and across his side. The surrounding feathers were blackened and twisted, and pus was beginning to well up from inside the burned flesh. The one on the arm had been no more than a graze and it had produced a light second degree burn. The shot he'd taken over his hip had been a lot more on target from a much more powerful gun. The tightness in his leg made him suspect there was some nerve damage.

"I'll need some provitate and synthflesh, but I'll live," he answered with a verbal shrug, "Any word from tha' fuzzball?"

"He's in the camp, but I found an escape route for him, and his headset's still sending out vital signs. He's still on his feet," Peppy returned, "Do you have Krystal in custody?"

Falco glanced over to Krystal, eyeing the weapons holstered on her body. She returned his gaze with an empty stare in her cold cyan eyes.

"I'll get back to ya' on that one, old man," Falco grumbled.

"Understood. Thermal scans for your area are clear; doesn't look like you'll run into trouble getting back to the LZ. Try to make it back as quick as you can, you might need to pick up Fox in the _Pleiades_."

"Affirmative. Falco out," the avian answered as he brushed by a fern.

They walked wordlessly through the jungle, the noises of the battle getting further behind them, and Falco glanced over to Krystal once again, eyeing her guns. He ran through various scenarios in his mind, mulling over the best way to disarm the vixen and get the binder cuffs back on her wrists. It had taken both him and Fox to bring her down before, and not without her very successfully fighting both of them off for a good while. And this time, he didn't even have a flashbang grenade.

"It's not easy to sneak up on a telepath, you know," Krystal remarked casually, "I can hear every thought in your head, as if you were shouting out your next move. You're not going to take my guns, so do yourself a favor and don't try."

"You could always hand 'em over willingly," Falco suggested.

"And why would I do that?" the vixen said, chuckling slightly.

"Step toward gettin' us ta' trust you again," he shrugged, watching as a white-furred winged lemur glided through the treetops above.

"I don't need your _trust_. Not anymore, at least," she dismissed, stopping and staring him down.

"Yo, just what tha' _fuck _is your deal, princess? I get that you're pissed at us. I was thinkin' seein' us again was tha' last thing you'd ever want. But why _this_? Why all tha revenge an' manipulation an' games with Fox's head? This ain't you. This ain't Krystal."

"Good, seeing as that's _not _the name I go by or the person I am anymore," the vixen retorted, "A year alone in an alien civilization tends to change a person."

"Fox kicked you off tha' team. _You_ were tha' one who just up an' disappeared," Falco came back.

"I seem to remember being _left_, on a skybridge in the middle of Anaxes, with the distinct impression that no one gave a damn if I came back," Krystal snapped, her posh voice becoming shrill with what might've been anger, "But enough about me: what about you, the great Falco Lombardi? You're no stranger to disappearing from the team and coming back at a moment's notice. I wonder why that is…could it be that you just need a reminder now and then that you have no one else? That you've destroyed every other relationship you had, with your old gang and with sweet, devoted Katt Monroe, who used to love you _so _much?"

Falco's lower jaw felt loose and he could feel something white hot building up in his chest. He could feel her searching around in his head, finding the things that she knew could hurt him. His left eyelid began to twitch ever so slightly. He wondered if he could somehow catch her by surprise and take her weapons away.

"I ran into Katt, not so long ago," the vixen sneered, her bright eyes gleaming haughtily, "She's very happy with her new lovebird. He doesn't have a drinking problem, either. How _is _that, by the way, Falco? I suppose it went dormant while you were helping Fox pick up the pieces of his surrogate family, but now that the team's back together again it seems it's come back with a vengeance. Why is that? Does Fox bring out the worst in you, like he does to so _many _people he cares about, or could it be the pressure of having to be the _crazy one _all the time? Or is it something else? Something much, much worse that you won't even admit to yourself?"

Krystal finished with a hateful smirk and a dead hollowness in her beautiful blue eyes.

Falco could barely breathe; he could feel the fury boiling under his feathers. It was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing his carbine and pulling the trigger, let alone saying something.

"FUCK YOU, YA FUCKIN' CUN-" Falco bellowed out, totally unprepared for Krystal to lunge forward and shove him hard in the chest. He fell backwards, expecting to find his balance but instead feeling the dirt crumble beneath him as gravity pulled him down. Tripping over a clump of ferns, Falco let out a squawk of alarm as he tumbled down a steep natural embankment, rolling through dirt and moss and plants with his carbine flying wildly by the strap over his shoulder, coming up and hitting him hard in the face. He landed in a jumble at the bottom of the slope on a cushion of decaying leaves and foliage, his blue feathers matted with dirt and plant matter.

Falco sat up with a growl, glaring murderously up the slope with the blue-furred vixen nowhere to be found. He spat out a curse at his stupidity, letting her lead him right up to the edge of some drop without him noticing, then pissing him off so she could push him off the edge while his guard was down and get away.

"Real fuckin' professional Lombardi, ya' dumb gado," he mumbled furiously to himself, knowing that he'd have to be fast to catch up with her. He couldn't call Peppy and request that he track her using thermal scans from the _Great Fox_, he'd have his hands full trying to keep Fox alive back in the camp. Not to mention the embarrassment it would cause to admit that he'd let her get away.

Just as Falco was about to sprint up the slope in pursuit, he caught a whiff of something putrid, with the low buzzing of hundreds of flies behind. He turned around and looked down at the large rotting carcass of what must've been a massive opatum wombat in life, now little more than a yellowed collection of bones with the occasional hunk of rancid meat. It was only then that he noticed that the area he'd fallen into had a distinct bowl-shape and was completely clear of trees, allowing the sun to shine in and provide warmth. The whole place was covered in a profusion of decaying leaves and plant matter of different varieties, several without living counterparts anywhere in sight. Falco was just beginning to put it all together when the clutch of four bulbous green-brown eggs, each larger than his head, confirmed it.

Then the broad scaled head of a mother varanis dragon rose up from the ground and regarded him with black eyes and a flick of her long, forked tongue. Falco stood frozen as the eight meter-long monitor lizard stood up on four thick legs with clawed toes, her head level with his shoulder. The varanis dragon let out a raspy, hissing roar, revealing a mouth full of curved teeth dripping with slimy saliva, then she bounded towards him with her heavy tail lashing behind her. Falco yelled and brought up his carbine, firing a burst of green bolts into the monitor lizard's grayish-green scales as he sprinted around the curve of the nest basin. The varanis dragon let out a squealing hiss but kept coming towards him alarmingly fast, and Falco stumbled and almost tripped as the large reptile closed the gap between them. Jaws opened as the reptile lurched forward, then an azure blur sped past Falco's face and struck the varanis dragon on the nose with the sparking end of an electrostaff.

The dragon bleated and shrank backwards, swiping out with its tail to hit Krystal as the vixen leapt into the air with a primal cry. She landed on its back and whirled her staff through the air as the dragon's tail flailed wildly, then she stabbed the staff into the base of the creature's neck. The dragon yelped briefly as the shock overloaded her nervous system and rendered her unconscious, and she collapsed to the jungle floor with a meaty thud.

Falco was still gasping for breath as Krystal leapt off the varanis dragon's back and came right up to him, brandishing the crackling end of the electrostaff under his jaw.

"No," she rumbled, "Fuck _you_. And Fox. And anyone else who thinks I'm the same scared little princess I used to be, because I'm _not_. My name is _Kursed_, and I am the beast your world has made of me. Life is a bitch. Now so am I."


	13. Fire in the Sky

**-Fire In the Sky-**

When Wolf reached the outer mine field protecting the Remnant camp, he could hear the symphony of battle sounds as the attack began: the popping of blaster fire, the shrill screams of the dying, the bass crashes of exploding ordinance. He thought he'd used the X-ray function on his implant to navigate the mine field reasonably fast. But by the time he cut through the monofilament screen into the actual camp, the situation had sunk from a well-executed attack to a level of hell. Bodies in maroon and green armor littered the ground as trees bathed in fire, clouds of concealing mist reducing beams of far-off blaster shots to little more than dull flashes behind a curtain of white. The stench of blood and death filled his snout as his pointed ears twitched with every distant scream.

The naked, rotting corpse of an avian with light blue plumage lay sprawled in front of him, a broken noose around her neck, her arm limply pointing him further into the camp. A low growl escaped his throat as he cracked the vertebrae in his neck with a slow roll of his head. The litany of carnage all around drew him back more than a decade to the beginning of the Lylat War, when StarWolf had taken part in the occupation of Macbeth's capitol city of Wayland. With the Venomian Army doing their part to 'cleanse' the metropolis and the Macbeth Resistance doing their part to prevent it, StarWolf's tour in the industrial megacity was a recurring cycle of skirmishes, patrols, bombing runs and mass murder, an itinerary of slaughter known ever since as the Wayland Massacre. Leon barely slept, gleefully pillaging in any way that he could like a pup scrambling for arcade games at closing time. Wolf did exactly what he was ordered to do, nothing more and nothing less. Those weeks of havoc left the streets filled with bodies and rubble, the foundations of Andross' grand new Lylat System.

How things had changed.

These last, pitiful revenants of the Venomian Army inspired no more loyalty or sympathy from him than the ragtag rebels that they fought against. Wolf had evolved since that point, just as he sensed they had. They were nothing but targets to be neutralized, obstacles standing between him and his ultimate goal. He felt the weight of the heavy, warm moisture in the air on his fur as he zipped up his blue blast-vest and stepped over the female avian's rancid body, crushing a clump of moss under his boot.

Wolf stalked forward into the camp, seeing the outlines of prefabricated buildings through the trees and mist, not a living person visible as the sounds of combat raged on in the distance. He heard a stammer of voices, then a pair of maroon-armored Remnant soldiers darted into view about twelve meters ahead, crouching down behind a thick, vine covered tree with their backs to him. One of the Remnants ducked out from behind the trunk to fire off a burst of crimson into the distance before retaking cover, still oblivious as Wolf took aim with his rifle. A Remnant's dark helmet turned around to face him just as he pulled the trigger, crying out in alarm as Wolf sprayed green blaster bolts into both of their backs. He sprinted over to where their dead bodies lay, a streak of blue flashing out of the mist and missing his back by several meters as Wolf took cover behind the tree. He pressed his back up against the bark and glanced down at the two bodies, nudging them with his foot and seeing that they were armed with nothing useful besides their own rifles. They certainly weren't the well-equipped, prepared Venomian Army he'd served anymore.

The crosshairs of his rifle visible through the blue vision of his optical implant, Wolf peeked out from behind the tree, spotting a squad of three Remnant soldiers firing around the corner of a large metal building at a pair of V rebels shooting from behind a crashed assault skimmer about ten meters away. He leveled his rifle at the exposed back of one of the rebels, his finger squeezing down on the trigger just as a flash of red past his face blasted a chunk out of the tree trunk. Wolf darted to the side, swinging his rifle around with a snarl and firing a stream of green at the four Remnant soldiers charging towards him through the fog, feeling a jab in his shoulder as a blaster bolt twanged off his shoulder pad. He stumbled around the trunk until the tree stood between him and his attackers, his teeth bared in a snarl as he looked up and planted his feet into the ground.

"Charge him!" one of the Remnants barked as Wolf leapt high through the air with a grunt, stabbing his clawed left hand and the spike on his kneepad deep into the bark of the tree, aiming his blaster rifle one-handed at the ground below with a feral grin. A red-armored Remnant appeared from around the tree with a partner close behind, blindly firing at the empty space that Wolf had once occupied as he came right into the StarWolf leader's aim. Wolf pulled the trigger, pumping a stream of green into the Remnant's chest as he pushed off from the tree and fell back down to the ground, smashing the other soldier in the face with the butt of his rifle and throwing him to the ground. He whipped around and opened fire just in time to catch the third soldier in the group coming around the other side of the tree, a storm of sparks erupting from the his red armor as Wolf leapt back and rolled to the side, dodging a shot from the stunned Remnant soldier lying behind him on the ground. He came up on one knee and shot the supine mercenary in the stomach and the face, then snapped his head in the other direction and heard the stumbling footsteps of the fourth and final Remnant soldier in the squad.

Lurching up on both feet, Wolf charged along the other side of the tree, practically colliding with the maroon-suited primate as he attempted to flank. The ape soldier yelped and tried to bring his gun up as Wolf lunged, smashing the metal spikes of his shoulder pad into the primate's side and tossing him off his feet. He could hear the ape gasp, the wind knocked out of him as he fumbled with his rifle to defend himself and Wolf stomped his boot down, pinning the gun to the soldier's chest before shoving his rifle into the ape's lips. The ape stammered out a plea, begging Wolf no, to please wait. Wolf did not, pulling his trigger and reducing the primate's terrified visage to a smoking, cauterized black tangle.

The grey fur of his bare arms prickled rigidly and his fingers dug into his rifle's grip, his lavender eye bulging in its socket as he bared his teeth so hard it hurt. He could feel the beast inside taking control, unbinding the ropes and setting him free to rampage and hunt anyone that dared come across him. The smells and sounds were more vivid, the once-stifling thick air an exhilarating sea for him to swim through. Wolf was done sneaking around, done with the second thoughts that told him maybe Leon was right about this being too much for him. He was out for the kill now, and blood was in the air.

He tore past the tree, charging towards the Remnant soldiers shooting from behind the building at the V rebels taking cover behind the dead assault skimmer. Only one of the two V rebels remained alive, huddled up against the assault skimmer's fuselage, while two Remnant soldiers had joined the group of three firing from behind the building. Wolf charged out of the mists at the rebel, his roar striking terror into all that heard. The Remnants shooting at the rebel spotted him and fired and Wolf slapped a button on his belt, a pinkish white energy field swirling around him as the red blaster bolts reached him. The reflector field scattered the blaster shots before disappearing, and Wolf dove behind the assault skimmer just as the rebel noticed him. The green and brown-suited reptilian cried out and swung his blaster rifle around as Wolf hopped over the rebel's dead comrade and kicked him in the face with a crunch of bone. He planted his foot back into the ground, shoved the end of his rifle into the reptilian's throat and blasted three green bolts clear through the soldier's neck. The rebel went limp as Wolf let out snarling breaths, saliva flying off his teeth as the five Remnant soldiers showered the assault skimmer with covering fire. Crouching down and looking straight at the assault skimmer's armor as laser blasts pounded into the dead vehicle, Wolf let the words "Image filter: Tactical DRADIS" rumble out of his lips and closed his eye.

The blue-tinted normal vision through Wolf's implant flickered away and was replaced by a black-filled void where everything around him was traced out in front of him in rapid pulses of ghostly bluish white. Though he rarely used it, the tactical DRADIS (a system similar to radar that stood for "Direction, Range, and Distance") filter on Wolf's implant served one vital purpose: the short-range pulses of gamma rays emitted by the DRADIS filter allowed Wolf to see through practically any surface, no matter how thick, within a six meter radius. Through the eerie black vision of his implant, Wolf was able to see the spectral silhouettes of all five Remnant soldiers through the ghostly outline of the assault skimmer, shifting in their positions as they fired at every angle that they could.

"Motion track: mark nearest five targets," Wolf growled, and red dots appeared over the chests of each Remnant soldier.

"Maintain current marks an' revert default vision," he continued, and with a flicker his vision returned to the blue-tinted view of the assault skimmer in front of him, the five red dots still visible and slaved to the Remnants beyond. Opening his eye and focusing on the red dots, Wolf let his rifle hang by the strap around his shoulder as he grabbed onto the dead body of the reptilian rebel at his feet, the black hole in his neck still smoking faintly. High on adrenaline and his own bloodthirsty instincts, the rebel's corpse felt almost weightless. Hefting the reptilian's body onto his shoulder, Wolf sucked in a few rabid breaths, stepping back from the skimmer and locking his eyes on the dots representing the Remnants beyond. Then he dug his claws into the body, throwing his chest forward as he flung the carcass with a roar.

The corpse tumbled through the air, vaulting over the assault skimmer and coming quickly down to the ground as the shooting stopped and the red dots trembled and scattered. Ignoring the burning in his arms, Wolf tore around the skimmer, bringing his rifle up while the five Remnants were still stunned and confused by the dead body that had dropped out of the sky and scattered their formation. He felt time slow, taking in the confused faces of the two apes, the brown-furred lupine and the squat, muscular amphibian as they stumbled away from the fifth of their group, another primate that was struggling to push the rebel's body off of him. The lupine was closest and the most distracted, so Wolf smashed the stock of his rifle into the back of his exposed skull, sending the lobo sprawling across the dirt. The other soldiers were yelling in panic, taking aim with their guns, but they moved slowly as if fighting through sludge, while Wolf flowed like water.

He slapped the button on his belt once again, the pink energy field of his reflector whirling around him like a pair of protective scythes, absorbing the crimson blaster bolts and scattering them in the opposite direction. Most of the reflected shots lanced out harmlessly into the distance, but two of them pounded into the chest armor of one of the ape soldiers, slamming him up against the wall of the nearby building with a burst of sparks. As the reflector field faded away, Wolf brought up his rifle and perforated the only standing primate soldier with a shower of green, then swept forward and shot a high kick into the amphibian's arm, his rifle swinging away and spitting bursts of red through the air. The ape hit by the reflected blaster shots got to his feet with scorchmarks on his breastplate as the remaining ape threw the rebel's body to the ground and the amphibian stumbled back, reacquiring his aim.

Wolf gulped in a breath and darted backwards as a crimson bolt burned across his bicep, grabbing the stunned brown lupine by the shoulder and shoving him in front as a shield against the others. The panicked Remnants fired anyway and the lupine screamed as the hail of red beams tore into him, throwing him into Wolf's hand. In the last few milliseconds of the lupine Remnant's life, Wolf shoved and then kicked him square in the back, sending the wolf tottering forward into the three soldiers while he still had the lingering ability to stand. Scarlet beams pounded into the lupine Remnant as he collapsed face-first into the ground, and by then Wolf was less than a meter away from the nearest primate. In a fluid, blurring motion, Wolf smashed the butt of his rifle into the ape's teeth, swept over and elbowed the other primate hard in the nose, then whirled around and slashed his claws into the amphibian's bulbous left eye.

A guttural scream erupted from the frog's huge mouth and he staggered back with red rivulets flowing down his green flesh as Wolf gripped onto his rifle's stock with hands drenched in blood and sweat, swinging it like a club into the closest primate. The soldier's head whipped to the side as the butt crashed across his face, a burst of white teeth and ropes of blood erupting from his lips, and the bloody-nosed ape next to him brought his rifle up just as Wolf cocked his makeshift club over his shoulder. He swung the butt of the rifle into the side of the ape's head at the same moment that a scarlet bolt flashed out of his gun. There was a sharp crack as the cheap blaster rifle broke across the primate's face, but Wolf didn't notice it because of the blazing hot explosion of heat and force on his ribcage as the bolt punched into his blast vest. Thin smoke poured out of the hole in the vest as Wolf was thrown back, grinding his teeth and smelling burnt fur as the feeling of a scalding knife dug into his breast. The pain threw his focus off for less than a second, just long enough to let him know he was hurt and enrage the beast within.

Wolf was snarling even as he struggled to gain his footing, falling back against the screaming, one-eyed amphibian as he struggled to shoot Wolf in vengeance. He twisted around and carved four new scars into the frog's face with his claws, got his balance and pounced at the two battered but standing primates. The one on the left brought up his rifle with blood pouring from his lips, and Wolf dodged a scarlet blaster bolt before leaping into the air at the ape. He sailed over the dirt, his waist level with his enemy's head as he grabbed both of the primate's ears and drove a spiked kneepad between his eyes. There was a crunch and a spurt of hot wetness over Wolf's leg as his chest hit the metal walls of the building, then he began to slide downwards as the primate's corpse collapsed to the ground. The remaining primate was just recovering to full height next to him when Wolf came down, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and ripping his bayonet-tipped blaster pistol out of its holster. As he fell with his knee buried in the face of one ape and his arm wrapped around the neck of another, Wolf stabbed the pistol's curved bayonet in between the armor plates on the ape's shoulder and pulled the trigger. The ape let out the beginnings of a scream as Wolf felt the gun kick and a bright green plasma bolt exploded through the maroon armor near the ape's hip. The three of them all hit the dirt in a pile, Wolf the only one still alive.

He grunted and rolled off the apes, a squishing sound reaching his ears as his kneepad spike withdrew from the ape's forehead, and he looked up to see the amphibian soldier standing over him, face red with blood. The frog began to yell something at him as he carefully aimed his rifle with his one remaining eye, but Wolf's arm snapped to full length and he blew off the amphibian's kneecap with a pull of his trigger. The amphibian screeched and collapsed to his knees, firing red blaster shots wildly into the air as Wolf shot to his feet, holstered his pistol and ripped the blaster rifle from the frog's hands. Throwing the rifle to the ground, Wolf let out a wicked growl and tore his claws across the amphibian's remaining eye, popping it like a water balloon filled with red jelly. Screaming and rolling on the ground, the frog's green skin was now stained as red as his armor.

Wolf stood there for a moment, panting and drooling, feeling the blood dripping from his fingers and soaking the leg of his trousers. He examined the line of burnt, blackened fur across his right arm where one blaster bolt had grazed him, then the point-blank shot into his sternum that had burnt through his blast-vest and a few layers of fur and flesh before dissipating. The one in his arm would be just another scar, the shot in the chest would've killed him if the rifle had been more powerful or his vest of lower quality. Even through the pain-numbing effects of his adrenaline rush, it hurt enough to make him wince.

Then he looked around at the defeated enemies all around him, the five silent dead ones and the sixth one wailing blind in agony on the ground. Even though he could hear the battle raging in the fog-shrouded depths of the camp beyond, Wolf felt like he'd won the whole thing single-handedly. Baring his teeth in a savage white grin, Wolf panted once more before drawing a rush of breath into his lungs and throwing his head back. The howl rattled inside his chest before tearing out of his mouth, a piercing, haunting noise that seemed to chill the jungle itself.

He howled until he was breathless, gasping for oxygen as his tail slapped the air from side to side. As soon as he caught his breath, he grinned so hard it ached and chuckled darkly at the sight of the bodies around him. An echoing explosion in the distance brought him out of his trance, and the grin slowly disappeared. He still had a job, a mission to keep in mind even as he surrendered himself to the primal instincts hidden behind his ribs like a monster in a cage.

The fallen foes around him were but distractions, obstacles to be removed.

The discs. McCloud. These were his true quarry.

Wolf began stepping over the corpses of his enemies, stalking into the mists ahead for his next prey, when an agonized scream behind him made him pause. He looked over his shoulder to see the amphibian Remnant soldier, rolling across the ground, bright red blood pouring from his empty eye sockets and oozing out of the deep cuts between them. He never stopped screaming, even though his throat must've been raw. Wolf calmly wiped his bloodied right hand on the black armorweave of his trouser leg, then drew his pistol and took aim.

Just because he was a mercenary, a killer even, it didn't mean he was a sadist.

Predators never let a kill go to waste.

The blaster kicked lightly in his hand as he pulled the trigger, and the amphibian stopped screaming.

Holstering his blaster, Wolf scanned the ground, looking for a new blaster rifle to replace the one he'd broken across the ape's skull. As he crouched down to pry a long HLT-18 blaster rifle from the dead fingers of one of the primates, Wolf's pointed ears twitched and he froze. Glancing up at the canopy of treetops overhead, his brow furrowed as he listened closely to the faint but unmistakable high-pitched whine echoing from the skies above. The sound was getting louder.

"Shit," Wolf scowled, knowing what it had to be.

Abandoning the blaster rifle and the six dead bodies, Wolf followed the walls of the prefabricated building nearby until he found a door. He swiftly went to work hacking the control panel to open it as the sound continued to grow. Wolf cast a contemptuous glance upward before going back to work.

Things were about to get so much messier.

* * *

_Thirteen meters to go_, Fox reassured himself, _Just thirteen more._

The past eighteen had cost him a lot; several times it nearly cost him everything. A caustic black line scorched the orange fur across his right deltoid and left bicep where a blaster bolt had gotten too close; soon they would add two fresh scars to the small collection all over his body. A clump of fur was missing from the end of his bushy tail, from an incinerator blast he'd barely dodged. The armor pad over his chest, as well as the white vest over his shoulders, were dotted with scorches from blaster shots he'd taken, a handful deep enough to burn through and sear the fur and flesh beneath. Yet here he was, still alive, still making it, with only thirteen more meters to go.

The butt of Fox's carbine jolted into his shoulder as he fired a burst of green bolts at the brown and green-armored rebel across the clearing, darting back behind an automated vehicle repair station as blue needles of light pounded into the thick metal with a storm of sparks. Holding the carbine close to his chest, panting for breath, Fox wiped the stinging sweat out of his eyes and glanced back around the repair station, pulling back just in time to dodge a stream of blue blaster fire from the solitary rebel across the clearing. As he tightened his grip on the carbine, Fox thought back, double checking himself. There'd been three rebels across the clearing, and he'd only shot one of them.

What happened to the other one?

A flash of brown out of the corner of his eye answered Fox's question as the remaining rebel tore out from behind a tree near the repair station, a gray-furred panther that flanked him and raised a heavy blaster pistol. Fox dropped into a crouch as a red blaster bolt sizzled into the metal above his head, bringing his carbine up only for the feline to grab the end of the gun with his free hand and shove the barrel away. Fox let go of the carbine and sprung to his feet, slapping the rebel's pistol away with one hand and jabbing his feline nose with the other. The rebel staggered backwards with a grunt, still gripping the end of Fox's gun and dragging him backwards by the carbine's strap as he blindly thrust the pistol towards him. Fox grabbed back onto the carbine and jerked to the right, shoving the pistol out of his face with his elbow before jerking the gun to the left and elbowing the panther in the chest. Fox yanked backwards on the carbine, giving him enough space to kick the rebel in the stomach and send him flailing back, his hands off the blaster. The vulpine threw his back into the metal of the repair station, then brought the carbine up and shot the rebel three times in the chest, crumpling him into the ground.

Fox leaned back around the repair station, quickly firing a burst at the rebel remaining across the clearing, and a yell to his side alerted him to a silver-furred vulpine in maroon armor with a green optical implant over his right eye, tearing through the ferns a few meters away wielding a heavy-looking blaster rifle with a vibroblade bayonet. Fox shrank back and fired as the vulpine Remnant dodged to the right, one of the green blaster bolts punching into a maroon shoulder plate as the disfigured fox swung out with his bayonet. Panicked he blocked with his carbine, hearing a grinding screech as the vibroblade tore into the metal, and tried to move back but the Remnant forced him up against the repair station with nowhere to run. The silver fox swung again for Fox's side and he parried with his carbine, the gun rattling so hard the vibrations traveled up his arm as the vibroblade bore deeper into the blaster's housing. The blade dug under the stock and into the main body above the trigger, puncturing the gas chamber with a crackling hiss.

Fox shoved forward with his dead carbine, slipping the strap off his shoulder and rolling to the side as the tall vulpine tore the gun off of the vibroblade. His hand flew to his holster and drew his EE-40 blaster pistol, bringing it to bear as the Remnant raised his large rifle. Fox fired two quick flashes of crimson from the pistol into the Remnant's shoulder and his arm, eliciting a yell of pain before he rolled across the ground to dodge a stream of shots from the silver fox's rifle. The Remnant stepped forward with a growl, swinging his long vibroblade in a wide arc that Fox dodged, leaving the silver fox's right side open for a trick the StarFox leader was well acquainted with. Bounding up from the ground, Fox swung his pistol over his head and brought the thick bottom of the handle smashing down into the glowing green photoreceptor of the Remnant's implant. There was a crunch of fragile electronics and the Remnant yelled loudly, swinging blindly with his blade-tipped rifle. Fox caught the rifle by the middle and shoved forward, head-butting the Remnant soldier at the bridge of his snout and driving him back, stunned. In a lightning motion Fox's arms snapped into firing position and he shot the Remnant point blank twice in the eye.

The silver fox's head snapped back and he fell limply to the ground, the vibroblade at the end of his rifle still buzzing angrily. As Fox took cover behind the repair station again, respiring, the sound of a long, piercing howl echoed through the trees overhead. Crouched behind the thick metal repair arm, Fox looked to the now-decaying camoflauge netting and the rainforest canopy above, his fingers tightening as the howl faded away.

A thought crossed his mind, and Fox quickly dismissed it, trying to focus on the very complicated task of staying alive under the current circumstances. If _he _was going to show up, he would've done it by now, and there were too many problems going on right now to worry about the ones that might be hunting him out there.

With a quick glance around the repair station, Fox whipped out from behind cover and opened fire, tickling the trigger of his blaster pistol and firing needles of red across the clearing at the remaining rebel, hitting him twice and stunning his target but not taking him down. The moments that the rebel stumbled back gave Fox enough time to line up the crosshairs in his scouter and fire a tight group of twin shots that flashed across the clearing and tore into his enemy's face. The rebel fell into a group of ferns nearby and Fox began sprinting across the clearing, staying low and watching the blue dot in his heads-up display mark down another six meters with a relieved grin. Fox reached a grey metal prefabricated building with a supply shed nearby alongside a pyramid of thick durasteel pipes with openings more than a meter wide, taking cover near ventilation housing on the building as he glanced around for enemies.

A crackling in his headset startled him, but he quickly adjusted his microphone and whispered, "Peppy? Peppy, I'm almost there. Just seven more meters."

"—ox, you've got to hurry-! There's a clo—upport cra—oming in low on yo—ition, I think it's an ai—!" Peppy's fractured voice urged through the comlink, just barely making it through a sea of static.

"Say again, Peppy, I didn't read. What's coming?" Fox called as loud as he dared into the microphone. A few moments after getting separated from Falco and Krystal, a piece of shrapnel from a grenade tore into his headset. He'd been thankful it'd been that instead of his _skull_, but he supposed the comlink tranciever might've been damaged.

"An A—RST—KE!" Peppy roared through the static.

Fox's brow furrowed as he mouthed out the sounds he'd been able to make out, trying to make sense of it, then a high-pitched whining far off in the distance reached his ears, just barely audible over the sounds of gunfire and explosions in the area all around. Fox listened to the sound for a few moments, and recognized the sound as the whine of high-powered engines, far off and high above but getting closer.

The blood rushed away from his face and the air left his lungs as Fox put it all together.

"Oh, _shit_, no no no," Fox whispered, his eyes flying in every direction.

He needed to find shelter, and he needed to find it _now_.

His breathing increased as he found nothing within immediate access, and all the while the whining sounds of far-off engines were growing louder. What had started as a high pitched whine was slowly becoming a piercing scream.

Groping along the wall of the building, Fox made his way around to the front and pressed the door access button, praying it would open only to see the control panel flash red and emit a stubborn beep.

Fox swore, glancing from side to side for something else as Peppy's frantic warnings came garbled through the headset, but all it did was make him even more stressed.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Fox whispered breathlessly, oblivious to the blaster bolt that streaked through the trees mere meters away. The only thing he cared about was that _sound_, and getting safe before it was too late.

The scream of approaching engines was joined by the roaring echo of displaced air just as Fox spotted the durasteel pipes stacked next to the supply shed nearby. Not wondering if it would be enough, only reasoning that it was the best option he had, Fox sprinted towards the stack of pipes, finding the most central one in the pile and climbing in feet first, slithering further into the pipe until he was all the way in, then sliding in deeper as Peppy came in once more garbled over the comlink, his message unintelligible but his voice hysterical. All the while, the screaming of engines grew louder, and Fox hoped that he was deep enough.

The word Peppy had been yelling was _air strike_.

The screaming of engines became deafening and Fox could faintly hear a hissing sound, and as the ground rumbled he knew it was time to close his eyes and cover his face.

A loud, heavy close support craft shrieked overhead, and the trees swayed from side to side in its wake as dozens of missiles streaked down through the canopy and into the camp below. The ground quaked with each impact and there was a hissing whoosh followed by a loud, rushing roar, and the air in the cramped pipe around Fox suddenly grew hot as he felt bright light behind his eyelids.

He kept his eyes closed and his face shielded as hot air rushed in and out of the pipe, and Fox couldn't help but cough as thick smoke swept into his nostrils. He coughed and gagged into the durasteel near his face, the air howling hungrily as loud crackling and roaring could be heard outside. It was so hot. Too hot.

Smoke was flooding the inside of the pipe, making it impossible to breathe, Fox coughing so much that he began to retch. He tried to open his eyes, but they stung with smoke and all that he could see was bright, almost purple light at the end of the pipe before his eyes watered too much and he had to close them again.

He dragged himself forward through the pipe, feeling it grow hotter as he came closer to the opening, the roaring sound ever louder. When his face finally emerged from the pipe, it felt like he'd stuck his head into a furnace, and his first gulp of air was painfully hot.

Fox finally opened his eyes, wiping the tears away and gasping in horror at what he beheld:

The Remnant camp, practically every surface of every tree, every building, every plant, even parts of the ground itself, was alive with thick, scorching lavender flames that whirled and licked through smoke-covered air, waving chaotically as powerful wind currents poured from side to side. The trees swayed and shook as if writhing in pain, clothed in robes of violet inferno as cyclones of flame danced between them. Wherever there were not flames, thick black smoke churned through the air, smothering the ground and flowing upwards to join the burning tree tops. The air began to rush around him and he felt a powerful howl as it began to grow hotter, and Fox withdrew back into the pipe as a wall of purple fire flowed through the trees like a tidal wave, starting new fires and feeding existing ones. He sucked in a relatively-smoke free gulp of air to find it starved of oxygen, and saturated with a greasy, salty petrochemical smell.

_Neypol, _Fox thought grimly, _The bastards dropped neypol on us. _

A low-tech though effective tool of war, neypol remained the most terrifying incendiary weapon in the Lylat System. When ignited, the sticky compound burned hot enough that it could melt through some metals on direct contact, and filled the air with suffocating carbon monoxide. If the flaming substance stuck to a being's skin (as was often the case), there was no practical way to remove it, and fourth-degree burns were sure to follow. Neypol had existed for centuries, the formula changing as generations of chemists refined the compound into a progressively more horrific substance. The most recent mixture contained a chemical salt that made the flames resistant to most conventional fire retardants and made them burn even hotter when exposed to water, but had the side-effect of coloring the flames a bright lilac. Neypol's reputation was so infamous that the substance was banned in the Cornerian Commonwealth almost two hundred years ago. Fortuna, however, had never proffered such a gesture.

As the purple flames drowned the surrounding forest, another choking cough erupted from Fox's throat and he could hear Peppy's garbled cries through the comlink, but he could barely make sense of anything with the fiery roar in his ears, the stinging in his eyes or the suffocated feeling in his lungs.

He needed to move, he needed to get _out _of here, if he wanted to stay alive. It was a good bet that, even if some soldiers in the camp remained alive, they were no longer going to care about killing Fox, which meant that all he had to worry about was escaping what was quickly becoming a forest fire.

Not that it would be any easier.

He crawled back forward through the pipe, face first into the wall of oppressive heat as hell swirled around him, the trees visible nothing more than black columns buffering the sea of lavender flames that stretched all around. Where the misty air had before shrouded the depths of the forest in a blanket of soft white, there were only walls of blinding purple blaze that left no path of escape. Fox gagged in the smoke-filled air as he fell out of the pipe, collapsing into the hot dirt and pressing the side of his face to the ground, hoping for some air that wasn't full of smoke. The air he gasped was clean but uncomfortably hot, and he did not feel the satisfied feeling of a lungful of oxygen. Instead, Fox was beginning to feel dizzy. The air was likely filled with carbon monoxide.

_Get out_, he reminded himself, _GET OUT._

Keeping his chest to the ground, Fox looked around at the purple blaze all around him, trying to find an escape route.

The fire could travel much faster than he could run, there was no use trying to find a place that the flames had yet to spread. His only hope was to find an area that was beginning to burn itself out. Fox spotted the supply shed nearby, the roof dancing with violet blazes, but the small space between the shed and the building next to it was free of flames. He dragged himself across the dirt, feeling the heat rush all around him as the trees crackled and burned, making it to the space between the shed and the main building and slipping himself inside, curling up tightly as he looked for the next route. As he glanced down the space to the other end of the shed, trying to find the next place to go, Fox spotted a shallow puddle of muddy water in the dirt, along with a small bucket of grease-stained rags.

Gasping out in relief, Fox dumped the rags out of the bucket and found the cleanest one, then soaked it in the puddle and held it up to his nose and mouth. It was difficult to breathe through the wet cloth, but each breath felt cleaner and more satisfying than any he'd taken since the air strike. Fox crawled forward along the shed, making it to the other side and seeing a smoldering trail of dirt twisting its way into the depths of the inferno, small puddles of purple flaming sludge dotting the path. It was the best option he had.

Fox got to his feet and crouched low, tears pouring out of his eyes as smoke stung them, blurring his vision and making it even harder to see as he carefully made his way down the path, occasionally looking up in case a flaming tree limb was about to fall down and pin him to the dirt. As he slowly navigated the path, his fur painfully hot, Fox saw the charred, flaming bodies of several armored soldiers of different races littering the ground, their uniforms and allegiance rendered irrelevant by the flames that swaddled them all and united them under a banner of burning violet. He tried to suck in air through the cloth and continue past the bodies, but he could feel a strange sensation flowing through him. At first he hadn't noticed it amongst the general discomfort of the heat, smoke and terror, but now it was undeniable: His fur was prickling into hot, hard needles on the back of his neck, his skin gripping tight to the muscles underneath. He tried to breathe harder, but the thick cloth over his nose wouldn't allow it, suffocating him gently.

He ignored it, pushed it into the back of his mind with all of the other things that didn't matter, _couldn't _matter right now, and tried to stumble on past the flaming bodies, but his stomach turned over in his gut and Fox felt the rising feeling of imminent vomit in his throat.

_Not now. Please not now_, Fox thought as he swallowed, saliva gushing into his mouth as his brain heated up.

He squinted his eyes closed, fighting it, commanding his mind, then begging it not to trick him, and as he opened his eyes he thought he'd done it. Then the limp hands of the neypol-charred bodies all around began to twitch, caressed by the lavender flames, and they looked up at him with twisted black faces and empty eyes and whispered things in hollow voices like wind on dry glass. They moaned of the horrors that awaited him, of the futility of fighting it. They wanted him to join them.

_Fight it! Fight it!_ Fox screamed inside his head, closing his eyes and prodding slowly forward as he sucked hot air through the damp rag. He _knew _that some part of him was still functioning normally, even though nightmares raged around him. He'd flown his Arwing through a successful atmospheric entry while hallucinating. It was proof that the visions were not only all in his head, but even less immersive than they appeared. He could beat it. He had to.

Otherwise he would burn to death.

The corpses whispered to him still, barely audible over the roar of the violet flames swirling all around, begging him to stop fighting and join in their suffering, but Fox stared straight ahead at the path, looking away even as they reached out to him. Brittle, spidery fingers grasped at his ankle and a rush of revulsion and terror shot through his leg and up his spine, but Fox went rigid and gritted his teeth.

_It's _not _a hand. It's NOT a fucking hand, you're just imagining it, now PULL IT TOGETHER_, Fox growled in his head, then slowly twisted his head around to see his foot caught in a tangle of blackened branches, the soldiers' flaming bodies facedown and silent in the dirt under their blankets of lavender flame. Fox breathed hard and wrested his foot out of the branch with a snapping of charred wood, then stumbled forward down the path. He could still feel things crawling under his flesh, his stomach knotting up inside of him, but he knew that it could be done. He could fight the flashback.

A loud crunch reached Fox's ears as a thick tree limb tumbled from the trunk of a nearby tree, dropping to the ground in a burst of purple and blue fire. In that momentary flare, Fox could swear that he saw a female's body flash into the air before disappearing. His stomach churning, eyes watering from the smoke, the deep roar of flames all around him seemed to blur into a constant droning tone. As he passed fiery trees, the rush of fire almost sounded like moans of pleasure. His heart pounded hotly in his chest as blood surged through his veins, glimpses of almond-shaped cyan eyes in the flames in his periphery.

Fox fought it again, commanding himself to forget her and all the pain and confusion she'd caused him, at least for now, knowing that she was safe.

It only made the roars of flame seem like even more intense moans of lust, the crackling blazes echoing with her wry, cruel laughter. His stomach lurched and fought against him as he told himself not to see her eyes in the flames, luring him to his death. Tender, passionate whispers floated past his ears, indecipherable over the flaming, roaring forest around him. They coaxed him to join her, embrace her, to let their passion consume the both of them until nothing remained but ashes. Smoke stung Fox's eyes and blurred his vision with tears, and as the world around him became a fuzzy smudge of black columns and burning purple, the azure specter of a naked vixen crossed the path up ahead before vanishing into the flames.

Fox coughed and stumbled forward, still feeling the smoke stinging his eyes as he continued down the path with tears streaming down his face, but up ahead he could feel the heat growing less intense, the lilac fires giving way to a remarkably untouched clearing of forest, surrounded half by green, living trees and half by black dead ones bathed in violet inferno. Smoke wafted up through the opening in the canopy, illuminated by the yellow light of the sun above.

He was almost there. He just had to make it to the clearing, ignore the siren voices calling him to his pyre, and he might be safe.

Cyan eyes glared at him through the flames, furious at being ignored, and the naked blue ghost darted behind him out of the corner of his eye, but Fox ignored her, stumbling forward towards the clearing.

"You're the _worst _thing that's ever happened to me," the ghost whispered in his ear, then Fox felt a shove on his shoulder as his stomach twisted into one final knot.

He stumbled forward blindly into the clearing, dropping the cloth away from his face as a gush of bile burst from his jaws, crashing to his knees and then collapsing onto his chest as his brain burned and the planet spun beneath him. Spitting the acid taste out of his mouth, Fox looked up to see a figure coming towards him through the grove of flaming trees.

It was not the naked blue ghost teasing him to his death, but a dark, shimmering figure that walked slowly through the chaos. As it came closer through the lavender flames, Fox perceived a pair of straight horns sticking up from the top of the figure's head, and imposing, spiked shoulders. The figure swirled and flowed as if made of gray fire, and Fox saw its face as it came to the edge of the clearing: one hard small eye the same lavender color as the flaming forest around, another larger eye burning a cold blue, with grinning jaws of razor teeth underneath. Even under the roaring of the burning forest, Fox could hear his deep, guttural voice.

"Oh, the horror, the horror…" the figure chuckled, "Eh, McCloud?"

The figure leapt between a pair of purple flaming trees and landed in the sunlight, stripped of all his mysticism: Wolf O'Donnell, bearing a cruel smile as he tossed a breath mask to the ground.

"Peppy…" Fox gasped into his microphone, too weak and dizzy to stand, hoping that someone would hear his calls, knowing that, somehow, this wasn't a hallucination any more.

Wolf regarded him with a puzzled eye as he strolled across the clearing, aloof to the blazing conflagration behind him. There was barely a scratch on him.

Fox got onto his knees, pushing himself up with his hands, trying to stand, but the world was spinning too fast underneath, his stomach a stubborn fist holding him to the ground.

"Now, what do we have here?" Wolf smirked darkly, cocking his head curiously to the side as he looked down at Fox, "Ya don't look too burnt. Maybe ya' got a few lung-fulls a' carbon monoxide, but you're stronger than _that_. Why's it look like you're doin' everything you can ta' keep from losin' it?"

The one eyed wolf circled slowly as Fox tried to catch his breath and calm his stomach, maybe get a grip long enough to catch Wolf off guard, but the ground just kept spinning and the grains of dirt between his fingers kept pulsating like they were about to burst into flame. Fox gritted his teeth and coughed raggedly as Wolf came to a stop at his head. Fox looked up to see that Wolf O'Donnell was raising a furry eyebrow, a sneer of disgust on his lips.

"You ain't still feelin' that Dalianide I gave ya, are ya?" Wolf growled slowly circling Fox again, "They say it leaves your system an' stops making ya' see stuff after a _week _or so. Unless, 'a course, it makes ya' go _insane _first. The effects tend ta' stick around when that happens. Is that what's goin' on, McCloud? You got a screw loose? Can't say it's a surprise. I guess you're just gettin' past your prime."

Fox groaned and looked up hatefully at Wolf, staring down the barrel of his bayonet-tipped blaster pistol. The StarWolf leader flashed a crooked, roguish grin, his hard lavender eye reflecting the fires of the forest all around.

"Maybe I should've just put ya' down on Temple like I'd planned. It's almost sad seein' ya so _pitiful_. Almost," Wolf growled almost tenderly, "Maybe I should finish what I started an' put you outta your misery. Or maybe I'll just kick tha' shit outta you until I get what I came for, then let ya watch while I take tha' prize you've bled so hard for. Decisions, decisions."

* * *

Peppy Hare's gaze flew over the controls of the _Great Fox_, glancing at holographic displays and sensor readouts as solutions raced through his mind, all the while the vast green and white orb of Fortuna dominated the bridge's main viewport.

"Come on, there's gotta be a way to help him," Peppy muttered, growing increasingly more stressed as he heard Fox suffering loud and clear on the planet's surface below through the comlink.

"Okay, Arwings won't help, bombardment won't help…" Peppy murmured, then turned to the grey robot plugged into the USC socket at the forward control console, "ROB, can we get a Landmaster down there? Maybe if we plot it to reintegrate above the treetops we can use the transfer device to drop one in right next to him."

"**Negative, Peppy**," ROB-64 replied in his synthetic voice, "**The only teletransference device in StarFox's possession was aboard the original **_**Great Fox**_**, installed in our refit after the Saurian assignment. As such, the teletransfer device was destroyed when you rammed the ship into the Aparoid homeworld**."

"Fine, what about flying the ship down through the atmosphere and dropping it in manually? How long would that take?"

"**Given standard entry procedures for a ship of this class and the density of the planet's atmosphere, approximately one and a half hours**."

"We don't have that kind of time!" Peppy yelled, "Fox is _dying _down there, do you understand, ROB? StarWolf's down there. The best case scenario is that we lose this mission. Worst case is we lose _him_. Either way, we lose if we can't do something."

The android glanced at him blankly with a glowing crimson photoreceptor strip.

"**Given the circumstances, I do not see an option that allows us to intervene both safely and timely****. ****I am…sorry, Peppy**," ROB concluded.

A hot feeling built up in Peppy's gut at the memory of the last time ROB had offered his artificial condolences: it was the day that he escaped from Venom with the news of James' death.

He'd been helpless to stop it then.

He was _not _going to let that happen now.

ROB's words swirled in Peppy's mind, and his ears perked as he came up with an idea. It wasn't one he liked. But it was the only one that worked.

"ROB, order Slippy to hop into a Landmaster and load it into the launch bay in drop position," Peppy said.

"**Done**," ROB reported, "**Your orders?**"

Peppy swallowed.

"I want you to override the warp drive failsafe protocols."

"**That is not advisable**."

"I said override them. And plot a jump about 1.2 kilometers over Fox's current position," Peppy said sternly.

"**Trans-atmospheric warp is prohibited under the Interstellar Travel Treaty as well as Commonwealth flight regulations. Such jumps risk severe damage to the ship's structure as well as the surrounding environment**," ROB lectured quickly.

"I _know_, ROB. Do it anyway. That's an order," Peppy remarked sternly, staring the android down.

The robot went to work.

"**This will require calculations accurate to a 10,000****th**** of a degree**," ROB remarked as he began typing data into the forward control console, simultaneously running dozens of other functions throughout the ship through his USC connection.

"Then get it right the first time," Peppy growled as he went to work and prayed he wasn't about to destroy another ship.

* * *

Fox let out a croaking gasp as Wolf kicked him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and making him feel like vomiting again. He rolled onto his side, looking up at the sky through the clearing as Wolf's head blocked out the sun.

"Aww, poor old Fox has fallen down," Wolf sneered through a mouth of lupine teeth, drawing his foot back once again, "On tha' ground."

The toe of Wolf's boot shot into his stomach again, and Fox let out a groaning cry of pain that briefly drowned out the roar of the burning forest. Wolf merely grumbled, scratching the back of his furry head with clawed fingers.

"Ugh, this is less fun than I thought. I really gotta make up my mind an' kill ya' or leave ya for dead. Either way I think I'll be havin' those discs of yours," Wolf growled.

Fox gritted his teeth, driving down the pain.

_You can do this. You can do this. Stand up and fight him_, Fox willed himself. Breaths jetted in and out of his nostrils as he thought of all the ways Wolf had hurt him, all of the ways he'd hurt others, and how much he deserved to have it the other way around for once. He was _not _about to let some visions stop him from doing that.

The dizziness in his head began to fade, and Fox's stomach began to uncoil, and he exhaled shallowly, feeling better by the second but continuing to act helpless.

"I'd really just wanna leave; I didn't plan this whole thing out or nothin'," Wolf shrugged, "But then I look down at you an' think what an awful waste it is ta-"

Fox shot up from the ground and silenced Wolf with a blow to his jaw, sending him reeling backwards. Wolf recovered quickly and lunged forward, slugging Fox in the gut and elbowing him between the eyes. A burst of pain rendered him blind for a few seconds as he stumbled back and regained his footing, seeing Wolf glare at him from a few meters away. His rough grey tail swept through the air behind him and he spat blood into the dirt with a grimace.

"Ya' made me bite my _tongue_," Wolf snarled venomously.

Fox opened his mouth for a clever retort and Wolf leapt at him with a roar, swiping with his claws as Fox leapt backwards to dodge. He dodged another slash to his face and kicked Wolf in the upper chest, pushing him backwards as Fox advanced. The StarWolf leader swiped again with a snarl crackling from his jaws, and Fox blocked with his forearm. There was a rough scraping noise as Wolf's claws raked across the armor pad strapped to Fox's forearm, and the lupine wore a look of confusion just long enough for Fox to act.

"Forgetting something?" Fox quipped, throwing his shoulder into a powerful punch into Wolf's snout. The lupine yipped and darted backwards, growling and waiting for Fox to make the first move. They stared at each other on a hair trigger for a second as they tried to anticipate the other.

Then a loud, booming clap of thunder could be heard in the sky above, and both Wolf and Fox looked up to behold a white winged shape falling more than a kilometer through the air. As the shape began to get larger, bathed in a red glow as it rubbed up against the atmosphere, they both suddenly recognized the shape as the _Great Fox_, freefalling through the sky on top of them. A deep rumbling could be heard as the massive ship plunged hundreds of meters in a matter of seconds, growing huger by the minute and casting a dark shadow over the clearing. Both of them stood dumbfounded, barely noticing as a much smaller white and blue shape dropped from the bottom of the ship and began tumbling through the skies on its own.

Fox's mouth had fallen open, confused and paralyzed by the thought that of all the ways to die today, being crushed by his own mothership would be the one to do him in.

Arcs of yellowish white energy leapt from the flaming cruiser as its three main engines glowed harsh white, and an energized hum could be heard even on the ground.

"No _fuckin' _way-" Wolf exclaimed, cut off as the ship vanished in a blinding explosion of light and sound, rippling the very fabric of spacetime as it warped away.

It took a split second for the enormous shockwave of the spatial distortion to hit, but it felt like the ship had crashed down on Fox anyway. The trees all around the clearing jerked drastically towards the ground, and Fox felt an invisible hand knock him off his feet and slam him onto his back as Wolf was thrown wildly into the air with a yelp. The dazed feeling disappeared as the trees swung back into position, and Fox could feel his ears ringing and the rush of blood in his nose. He sat up from the ground to see that the shockwave had blown out much of the purple flames within about twenty meters, rendering the forest around the clearing a smoking tangle of blackened trees as fires continued to blaze in the depths of the camp. In the sky above, the blue and white shape continued to fall, blue jump jets slowing its descent as it dropped out of view and Fox heard a loud crash and the cracking snap of dozens of trees in the distance.

As he stumbled, disoriented to his feet, Fox looked around for what happened to Wolf. A tree at the edge of the clearing rustled and the lupine dropped to the ground, his eye bulging with fury as he tore a sharp twig out of his leg.

Glaring at Fox across the clearing, Wolf rumbled, "Now I'm pissed."

The StarWolf leader charged towards Fox, even as they heard the sound of a heavy engine and the crashing of trees coming through the forest. Wolf snarled and swiped forward, then swept his foot out in a roundhouse kick that Fox ducked under as something huge and white tore through the rainforest towards the clearing. Fox jabbed at Wolf's face, only to have him block and shove Fox backwards, slashing with his claws once again. Fox blocked the slash with the armor on his forearm again, and Wolf ducked under and slugged him in the ribs. Fox tumbled backwards, ready to fight back just as a long line of trees at the edge of the clearing fell to the ground with a heavy thud, revealing a huge white tank sitting on a pair of enormous treads, a long artillery turbolaser turret extending from between a pair of blue G-diffuser housings. On the side of the G-diffusers, right next to the winged fox logo, were the words STAR FOX in elegant script.

They both froze at the sight of the massive tank, then the turret rotated with a loud hydraulic whine until it was leveled right at Wolf.

The lupine swore and leapt out of the way as a massive bolt of greenish-white plasma tore out of the end of the turret, blasting a huge crater into the space that Wolf had previously occupied. Wolf rolled across the dirt and sprinted across the clearing as the Landmaster's turret moved to follow him with a whine, slowly gaining on him before the StarWolf leader leapt into the trees and disappeared into the rainforest.

A ragged breath escaped from Fox's jaws as the turret swung back into default position, and he felt like he could barely stand.

After a few moments, a hatch opened in the Landmaster's chassis under the turret, and Slippy Toad's round face emerged smiling from the depths of the tank. Fox wasn't sure that he'd ever been so happy to see him.

"Rough day, buddy?" Slippy called out, waving him over.

"Don't start," Fox wheezed, climbing onto the Landmaster and crawling towards the hatch.

* * *

Wolf tore through the jungle breathlessly, cursing as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the damned tank wasn't crashing through the trees after him. He didn't how far he ran or for how long, he was too angry at himself for failing to get the discs to notice. He trudged past a tree and came to the banks of a thick, muddy stream, stopping to catch his breath.

As he calmed down, Wolf shook his head and chuckled lightly, watching a thick black log float down the stream. At least it wasn't a total wash. They'd still attached the homing beacon to StarFox's shuttle; they could still follow them to the ship. He'd been able to beat on McCloud a bit. And, contrary to Leon's opinion, he'd walked away from the whole thing practically unscathed.

Thinking on how good it would feel to show Leon that he was fine on his own, Wolf scooped some water out of the stream to cool off, smiling absently at the sky and at the untouched rainforest around him.

It was at that point that the dark log floating down the stream came to life and shot out of the water with a large, diamond-shaped head full of needle-sharp teeth. The anaconda's massive head tried to bite down on Wolf's shoulder but instead got a mouthful of spiked narcium shoulder pad, releasing its grip and shrinking back as Wolf stumbled away from the stream bank with a yell. The enormous blackish green snake was thicker than most trees Wolf had seen, and most of it was still submerged under the stream's muddy waters. He drew his pistol and the anaconda struck again, its large head blasting through the air like a missile as Wolf leapt back and the snake got a mouthful of dirt. The anaconda coiled thickly along the bank, sweeping across the ground towards Wolf for another strike as he pulled the trigger. A glob of bright plasma flashed out of the pistol and plowed into the ground in front of the snake's mouth, a burst of green fire that made the snake dart back into a coil of its own muscular body. Wolf leveled his pistol at the snake's head as a thick black forked tongue flicked out of its mouth, only to draw back in. The serpent's slit pupils locked onto Wolf's mismatched eyes and stared him down for a few seconds before turning and slipping back into the stream, disappearing into the murky brown water.

Wolf growled as he shoved his pistol back into the holster, glaring at the stream.

"Fucker," Wolf spat, his teeth bared in a snarl.

What appeared to be a meteor shower started to rain down through the blue skies above, pounding into Fortunan surface with audible thumps in the distance. Wolf wouldn't have taken notice if it weren't for the massive column of blue-white light that suddenly shined down on a section of the banks upstream. His brow furrowed as he tried to trace the source of the light, only able to determine that it was shining down from the sky. He stared perplexed at the light show trailing across the atmosphere, when the ray of light suddenly coalesced into a thick, bluish particle beam with a surge of energy.

The ground trembled and the stream boiled as the particle beam began to sweep through the jungle ahead with a horrible blasting, tearing sound that incinerated the trees and anything else that the light touched. Wolf stumbled back with a panicked yell as the particle beam carved its way into the rainforest behind him, his eyes flying to the nearest tree with accessible branches. He grabbed onto the limb and began to climb, activating the comlink in his implant and yelling for an extraction from Leon.

The reptilian frantically reported to be on his way just as Wolf made his way to the top of the tree and looked out over the rainforest:

Visible was not one particle beam but three, massive swords of blue light that cut swathes of fire across the land like the wrath of God. As the three particle beams tore into the ground, Wolf realized that the meteors showering from the sky were actually turbolaser blasts. Occasionally, a comet would streak flaming into the ground, producing a massive fireball, and Wolf recognized these as re-entry warheads.

He heard the dull scream of _Fang One_'s engines coming closer and he realized that he'd seen something like this before. The only difference was that he'd seen it from space rather than the ground. It was an orbital bombardment.

It meant that a capital ship in orbit had taken it upon itself to cleanse all life from the area surrounding the Venomian Remnant camp.

But who the hell would want that?

As _Fang One _hovered over the top of the tree and extended the boarding ramp from its side, Wolf realized that it was probably someone else with an interest in the discs that led to the _Xerxes_. Leaping from the top of the tree and grabbing a hold of the ramp, then hoisting himself up and retreating into the open hatch of the dropship, Wolf thought grimly of the enemies he might not even know about that could be waiting for him at the next turn. The ramp slid back into the ship and the hatch closed, and Wolf began to climb up the stepladder into the dropship's cockpit as particle beams sterilized the ground below.

* * *

They knew something was wrong even before the Landmaster crashed through the jungle and picked up Falco and Krystal. Peppy came in on the comlink, reporting that the ship had survived the risky trans-atmospheric warp in and out of Fortuna's atmosphere to tank-drop Slippy in for a rescue. The _Great Fox _was no longer in orbit above their position, however Peppy was able to report that long-range scans detected massive energy signatures pouring down on their area.

They were able to sense it in the ground as the Landmaster tore its way to the StarFox landing zone, from the periodic impacts that weren't caused by the tank running over a tree.

When they made it back to the clearing, they quickly determined how best to return to the _Great Fox_. Fox and Falco held Krystal at gunpoint and demanded she surrender her guns and reattach the binder cuffs. She seemed oddly cooperative, handing over her weapons and allowing Falco to snap the binders back over her wrists. She was then moved to the cockpit of the _Pleiades_ and Slippy was armed with an electro-baton, ordered to subdue her if she resisted. Slippy agreed, however reluctantly, and began to calibrate the magnetic clamps on the shuttle so that they could air-lift the Landmaster back to the _Great Fox_. Fox and Falco, meanwhile, flew escort in their Arwings.

The sight of turbolaser blasts raining down on the Kongis jungle as pulse lasers scorched thick black trails through the trees shocked Fox, to say the least. What was even more distressing was the color of the lasers: blue, the filter used for the weapons of Cornerian Commonwealth ships.

They blasted at full speed into the skies, making it into orbit as fast as they could with the _Pleiades_ weighted down by the heavy Landmaster. As the curvature of Fortuna became visible through the canopy of Fox's Arwing, his eyes followed the bluish white beams until they widened with dread at their source: As he had feared, the ship performing the orbital bombardment was none other than a Cornerian _Trafalguis_-class battle cruiser, a grey warship with a pair of large nacelles jutting out near its rear and a third emerging from its underside, the bluish white beams erupting from the powerful assault pulse laser cannons.

Fox opened a public communications channel and tried to establish contact as he broke formation with Falco and the _Pleiades_, flying closer to the cruiser as the ship ceased firing.

"_Trafalguis _cruiser, this is Freelancer TSF-1, come in _Trafalguis_," Fox spoke into the comlink, eyeing the ship as it grew larger through his Arwing's transparisteel. The cruiser was beginning to pitch slowly upward, tilting its bow away from the surface of Fortuna and towards the black void of space beyond.

"Unknown cruiser, this is Freelancer TSF-1. Identify yourself, over," Fox requested, watching the ship begin to move away.

"Unknown cruiser, this is Freelancer TS…" Fox trailed off, his jaw falling slack as he recognized the symbol painted on the side of the ship in dull, translucent green: it was an interlocking pentangle of an ancient design, a reference to an order of knights in the feudal Five Kingdoms of Corneria, said to be the perfect examples of virtue and justice.

It was the symbol of the Commonwealth Security Bureau.

Fox yelled through his comlink again, demanding an answer from the silent ship, but the three powerful engines on the _Trafalguis_-class cruiser glowed bluish white before it warped away into the blackness of space beyond.

He just sat there, breathing, furious and confused at this new, alarming twist in his mission.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oooh, the plot thickens. It was fun to be on Fortuna, but I'm glad to be back in space. There's a lot of interesting developments ahead, so please keep reading.-TU


	14. For Your Eyes Only

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This was originally part of a much bigger chapter, but it got too big. So I cut this section out since it detracted from the pacing, and thought it could stand on it's own to set up the third act of our story, and to give you something short to enjoy as I finish off the next chapter. While you're waiting, why not leave a review? I'm so glad the Director is back in the story. I think you will be too. -TU**  
**

* * *

**-For Your Eyes Only-**

She had watched the bombardment from the comfort of her cabin on the _Jeremiad_, lounging in an armchair upholstered in the finest Zonessian sealskin and washing down a meal of soft-boiled quail's eggs over fried rice with a glass of sparkling honey wine from the Cornerian megacity of Oceana. The dinner was exquisite, and so was the show. With the green and white globe of Fortuna framed in her cabin's floor-to-ceiling viewport, watching the blue pulse lasers of the Cornerian Commonwealth Ship _Jeremiad _cut into the Kongis jungle far below felt like watching a cake being cut, to celebrate the success of one of her most ambitious plans ever.

Now, the world framed in Gillian Morrow's viewport was not green, but the cobalt blue of Zoness, speckled with brown smudges made by the hundreds of thousands of islands and archipelagos scattered about the oceans of the tropical world. And yet she still could not suppress the urge to smile.

The she-wolf allowed herself a few more moments to look down on the world before the smooth grey form of a _Sphyrna_-class corvette glided past like a shark with mounted laser cannons, spoiling the view. Morrow uncrossed her legs and got out of her chair, smoothing the folds in her black pantsuit and the collarless red blouse she'd been wearing for more than a day on the ship. If the ship's chronometer was to be believed, she'd been awake for more than twenty-eight hours, but there wasn't a hint of fatigue in her golden eyes, and her mind felt fresh as if she'd just woken up. Victory had a way of energizing Gillian Morrow.

She crossed the floor of the plain white cabin and leaned into the refresher, checking the mirror to make sure the thick mane of snow white fur on the back of her head was combed properly and that the rest of her coat was presentable, then moved to the box on her desk and took out a thick golden necklace with a small ruby at the center, fastening it around her neck. Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up a datapad off her desk and ran thin fingers through her hair as she moved to the center of the room, her black high heels tapping into the polished floor and her white tail twitching behind her. The only person Gillian Morrow answered to was supposed to be the most powerful male in Lylat, and she preferred to look _perfect _for him. He was much easier to convince when she did.

"Viewport, opaque," Morrow directed aloud, and the view of Zoness was replaced by a wall of flat grey as she looked into the datapad cradled in her arm, dialing a series of numbers on the touch-sensitive screen and waiting as the holoprojectors in the ceiling activated. She breathed confidently and stood up proud and straight as the sound system clicked and the glowing blue words **Establishing Transmission… **appeared in the air in front of her. It took even longer than a standard holo-transmission to broadcast, the signal needed to be scrambled through two of the most powerful encryption codes ever written before being beamed across billions of kilometers through space using secret comm.-buoys and then decrypted on the other side. Also, given that it was after midnight in Corneria City, her contact would likely be slow to respond. Her call was expected, but nonetheless Robert Fitzroy could occasionally be…distracted at such a late hour.

The words flickered away, and the holoprojector casted the image of an attractive male Labrador with a pale golden coat, wearing a pair of midnight blue silk pajamas under a dark grey robe with the crest of the Cornerian Commonwealth sewn on the breast: a green six-pointed star over a golden globe, encircled by a large letter C formed from beams of light radiating out from it.

The fur between Robert Fitzroy's floppy ears was mussed up, and he was rubbing something off of his cheek with a manicured paw. His hologram flickered for a moment or two as he straightened his hair and adjusted his stance, then he looked around and chuckled for a moment, shaking his head.

"Hey, Gillian," Fitzroy greeted with his signature million-Liat smile, "Thought you'd be calling a bit later, I was…sort of preoccupied."

"Your Grace," Morrow returned, bowing her head lightly. No matter how many times he'd asked her to call him Robert in private, it had always felt uncomfortable coming out of her lips, as if it put into words how close their working relationship could sometimes be. She was his spymaster, it was her job to play the monster so that he didn't have to. She was not his friend. Robert Fitzroy trusted her. Gillian Morrow had long ago learned the folly in trusting anyone.

"Is this what I think it is?" the Prime Minister of the Cornerian Commonwealth inquired.

"I'm calling to update you on the progress of Operation Swordfish," Morrow answered calmly, blinking her golden eyes.

"I thought so," Fitzroy nodded, looking off to the side, "Do you mind waiting for a second? I want to bring someone else in on this, plus I'm feeling like a late-night snack."

"Your time is more important than mine, Your Grace."

"Good. Good, just hold on a moment," the Prime Minister said, his ghostly image disappearing. His hologram returned a few seconds later, holding a datapad in one hand and a slice of flaky pastry oozing brown gravy on a plate in the other, and he sat down in a blue plush swivel chair somewhere and scooted it comically into his holoprojector's scanner range.

"Ahh. Steak and gravy pie. Just like mom used to make. You know my favorite part about living in the Palace of Churchill? I can put a conservator in _every _room if I want to," Fitzroy smiled, sitting down.

"Bobby? Bobby, I can't find my shoes…" a female voice came in faintly over the sound system.

Fitzroy rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder to what must've been an open door in the room he was actually sitting in, calling back, "Try under the bed, Victoria."

"They're not there."

"Find them when you come back. The money's in a credit chip on the nightstand. Meet Jeff in the hall and he'll call you a cab."

"Bobby, they're expensive shoes!"

For once, the handsome canine looked angry.

"Oh, I'm _sure _they're expensive on a bang-tail's salary," Fitzroy remarked nastily.

"I'm not a _bang-tail_, I'm an escort!"

"You could've fooled me. You can have shoes when you come back, just get out of here," the Prime Minister dismissed with irritation.

"When will _that _be?"

"_Never _if you don't leave! I'm _working_," Fitzroy snapped.

"Yes, Bobby," the female voice returned quietly.

"Sweet Lyla," Fitzroy grumbled, running a hand over his face as he settled back into his chair and took a bite of his steak and gravy pie.

The whole time, Gillian Morrow had only politely glanced away and recalled why she recorded every conversation she held with someone of power. Robert Fitzroy was still unmarried, but his pristine reputation would quickly fade if his proclivity for such visitors was made public knowledge. She filed it in the arsenal of blackmail that she kept, just in case the situation called for it.

"Sorry about that, Gillian," the Labrador sighed, settling into his chair and dialing in a number on his datapad, "I'm pulling in someone else on this conference of ours…it's just before lunchtime in Anaxes, excellent."

"Your Grace, this information is really for your eyes only," Morrow informed him, the tone in her thick voice sharpening the impact of her words.

"And his as well. Are you familiar with Field Marshal Ramsey Bolton?" Fitzroy prompted, resting his datapad on his chair's armrest.

"I can't say I am," Morrow replied coolly.

"He's at the top of my list to replace Peppy Hare as General of the Armed Forces. We can't keep George Pepper holding the fort forever; he's practically one foot in the ground as it is. Here we are," Fitzroy smiled as the holoprojectors drew another figure in front of her. This one was a tall middle aged ram in a green Cornerian Army officer's uniform, with amber-colored eyes and a twisted goatee trailing down from his chin. He sat in a black office chair with his arms crossed over his chest, resting his curving horns against the back of the chair and glancing at her indifferently as he greeted the Prime Minister.

"Marshal Bolton, thank you for joining us. This is Director Gillian Morrow of the CSB," Fitzroy introduced.

"Director Morrow," the ram regarded in a gravelly voice with a nod of his head.

"Marshal," the CSB chief returned.

"Gillian, perhaps you can brief the Marshal and give him some background before giving us both your update on the situation," the Prime Minister instructed as he took another bite of pie.

"Of course, Your Grace," Morrow sniffed, concealing her irritation and calling up a selection of files on her datapad, programming them to be displayed on the currently opaque viewport and transmitted to the Prime Minister and Field Marshal as well. She cleared her throat and began.

"This briefing concerns ComSec Special Op 33965, codenamed Swordfish. I am personally overseeing this black-bag operation, which is level four classified, thus this program officially does not exist, nor will it ever exist. It is imperative, Marshal, that you are the only one that hears this information," Morrow instructed softly, so he'd have to actually pay attention to hear.

"I have top-secret clearance, Director Morrow, I know what to do," Bolton replied gruffly.

"It's not you that I'm so concerned about, Marshal. You'd be amazed the variety of ways for someone to eavesdrop and watch you without your knowledge," Morrow rebutted with a cold narrowing of her golden eyes.

Field Marshal Bolton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, furrowing his brow at her and saying nothing.

"Gillian, please continue," Fitzroy sighed, "I'm sure the Marshal's office in the Citadel isn't being monitored."

Morrow never once considered bringing up the fact that she'd had several offices in the Citadel bugged and wired by the CSB for years, including the office used by both Peppy Hare and George Pepper at one time or another. Instead, she merely continued, pressing an icon on her datapad.

On the opaque viewport appeared the image of a large-framed, middle-aged tiger with long, curling whiskers and a grizzled lump of white fur on his chin. The meaty Fortunan feline was wearing a white shirt and a thick red tie under a brown double-breasted suit heavy with medals pinned to the lapel, and he appeared to be waving to a large crowd in the image.

"Josef Pedrano," Gillian Morrow explained, "Premier of the Planetary Republic of Fortuna, and head of the Fortunan government for the past five years."

"Is this the architect of their decision to harbor what was left of the Venomian military?" Bolton interrupted.

"No, that was his predecessor. He's the one who turned a blind eye when Andrew Oikonny was building a fleet to attack Corneria. And he's been high up in the Fortunan government since before the Lylat War," Morrow answered, "Now he's in charge, and pledging to the rest of the government that he can end the Fortunan civil war. He's actively been assisting the Venomian Remnant with whatever they need to continue fighting rebel groups all over the planet. Not to mention committing numerous crimes against his own people in the name of rooting out the anarchists and rebels bringing down the government."

"So what's the CSB's concern with him?" Bolton inquired.

"He's running out of money and weapons," Morrow replied, "It's costing him too much to win the civil war. So he's looking to give Fortuna new opportunities for investment, mainly by expanding the planet's small starship construction industry to rival Corneria and Macbeth's. The issue is that Fortuna lacks colony worlds from which to gain the required resources, and Fortuna is not known for an abundance of shipbuilding ore, at least in easy access. Surveying and mining in the jungles would be prohibitively expensive, since the trees regenerate so quickly and most of the rebel factions are based in one region of jungle or another. Other areas of Fortuna with the confirmed deposits necessary to support heavy shipbuilding are regions that shift between rebel and government control on a monthly basis. There is only one secure region of Fortuna that has these resources confirmed and surveyed."

Morrow pressed an icon on her datapad, and Josef Pedrano's image was replaced by an image of a long stretch of coastline, dotted with large industrial facilities built both on the ground and on stilts rising out of the water. Further off the coast, a deep underwater canyon was highlighted in bright green.

"The Lasko Coast, on the northeastern seaboard of Fortuna's main continent, and the nearby Targaryan oceanic trench, contains one of the richest deposits of lommite and orichalcum ore discovered in the past two decades, and is almost as rich in palladium and other platinum group metals as the Platinum Basin of Papetoon," Morrow explained as Bolton's hologram nodded pensively and Robert Fitzroy continued to eat his pie, "The concentration of resources in the Lasko Coast is larger than any remaining ore deposits on Corneria, and it rivals the size of average Macbeth ore deposits. The platinum group metals can be made into electronic starship components, the palladium being especially vital in the manufacture of atmosphere recycling units, while lommite can be refined into durasteel, transparisteel and adamantine armor plating. The orichalcum, mined in the deepest parts of the Targaryan Trench, is essential in nearly every component of a modern warp drive, and it is also used in generating deflector shields and containment fields for reactor core fusion chambers. In short, the Lasko Coast contains in abundance every resource that Josef Pedrano would need to jump-start a Fortunan starship industry.

"The only problem is that the Lasko Coast has been leased from the Fortunan government for the past eighteen years. The mining rights for the coast and the trench are controlled by the Lasko Resource Development Corporation, a company owned by investors from Corneria and Aquas. Currently, the LRDC supplies ten percent of the raw materials used in the shipyards of Aquas and almost thirty percent of the materials used in orbital shipyards in Cornerian space. It represents the largest source of starship construction materials from outside the Commonwealth. It is at this point that things began happening to require the attention of the Commonwealth Security Bureau."

Morrow stopped and cleared her throat for a moment, mulling over whether or not to get the bottle of sparkling honey wine from the conservator and pour herself another glass. Looking at the holograms of the males in front of her, both of them sitting, one of them eating pie, she decided against it. Better to stand as they sat, talk as they ate. Out of the three of them, she was the one in control here.

"Approximately seven months ago, the CSB received word from a source inside the Fortunan government that Pedrano was planning to invalidate LRDC's lease and revoke their mining rights on the Lasko Coast. At first, we did not take it seriously, until a month later the Pedrano government issued an order to Lasko Resource Development's headquarters, instructing them to cease all mining efforts within three months, cease all off-world ore shipments in six, and begin the process of turning over all of the mining, processing and refinery facilities servicing coast to the government. All of this was ordered to be completed by no later than a year from when the order was issued," Morrow informed them.

Bolton's brow furrowed, while Fitzroy took the last bite of steak and gravy pie and set the plate down on a desk out of view of the holoprojector scanner.

"They're nationalizing the Lasko Coast?" Bolton clarified, drumming his fingers on his arm in thought.

"Precisely," Morrow answered, "Their plan is to build their new starship industry by taking resources legally owned by a Commonwealth corporation. Resources which are vital to the continued success of the Commonwealth's own starship industry."

"Inform the Field Marshal what the loss of the Lasko Coast would mean for us, Gillian," Fitzroy said, slowly scratching behind one of his ears.

"Loss of the Lasko Coast would affect the shipbuilding industries of two Commonwealth worlds, especially that of Corneria. We would need to depend more on asteroid mining in Meteo, which is inconsistent, unpredictable and vulnerable to piracy, or import the materials from Macbeth at heavy premium. The scarcity of shipbuilding ore it would create would further drive up prices and negatively affect the stocks of hundreds of Commonwealth businesses across multiple industries. The competition of a strong Fortunan shipbuilding industry would cut down the profits of starship manufacturers for both Macbeth and the Commonwealth. The projected effect would be the beginnings of an economic recession across the entire Commonwealth and a crippling of our starship industry. This being a year after the Aparoid Invasion, from which we have yet to fully recover, the results could be even worse. Such a situation would even further slow the reconstruction of the Cornerian Starfleet," Morrow explained.

"Voters don't like it when they lose their jobs. Admirals don't like it when they can't get ships. And Macbeth doesn't want competition any more than we do in times like these, especially from Fortuna. Obviously, it's a situation that can't be left in the hands of the Fortunan people, or at least their government," Fitzroy smiled.

Morrow allowed herself a slight smirk as she gazed at the hologram of the attractive young politician. In public, Robert Fitzroy was all smiles and glamor and boy-next-door values. But he'd quickly realized that no one gets re-elected by being nice. Sometimes, bad things needed to be done in order to give the people what they wanted, and Robert Fitzroy liked being the golden boy too much to soil himself with bad things. Rather than using the loud, blunt, public instrument that the Cornerian Army and Defense Force presented, he preferred to have the dirty work done quietly, in the shadows, by someone else. Thus, he continued to give Gillian Morrow more and more leeway, so much that most of the time he didn't even _want _to hear about the things she'd done in the name of justice, security, and Corneria's best interests.

"Preventing the nationalization of the Lasko Coast and its effect on the Commonwealth's economy is the ultimate goal of Swordfish, which was approved by the Prime Minister soon after the Pedrano government issued their order to LRDC. Our first attempts involved using operatives within the Fortunan Presidium and military to cancel the order, but it quickly became clear that Pedrano has made the nationalization of the coast a primary goal. Our approach changed to doing whatever we could to indirectly turn the tide of the Fortunan civil war in favor of the rebels," Morrow explained, "We have supplied various factions with weapons, light combat vehicles, supplies, armor, and training. As much assistance as we gave to the rebels, it did not change the circumstances that are winning the civil war for the government: the two-pronged warfare approach of using Fortuna's conventional military to fight the rebels directly and using the guerilla warfare of the Venomian Remnant, led by former General Maximilian Zaius, to fight the rebels in their jungle hideaways. It has become clear that neutralizing the Remnant is necessary to give the rebels a tactical advantage over the Pedrano government."

"So what's the problem with wiping them out? They're our old enemies and they're helping our new enemies. Seems like a pretty simple matter to just go in there and liquidate them," Bolton prompted, leaning back in his chair.

"Despite our efforts, we've never been able to get an operative into Zaius' Remnant camp. He runs the place like a cult and his soldiers worship and fear him like a god. The rebels have never been able to find and organize an attack on the camp themselves, at least an effective one, before the Remnants relocate. We could wipe them out using an orbital bombardment, but we couldn't be sure that we killed Zaius himself. And the Fortunan government would likely take issue with a Commonwealth ship firing on their soil. Further complicating the matter is this," Morrow explained, pressing another icon on her datapad.

The image of the Lasko Coast disappeared, replaced by the long, red form of a Venomian warship. Gillian Morrow had been looking at images of the _Xerxes _for so long that she could've drawn it from memory.

"The VNS _Xerxes_, a prototype flagship that disappeared during the Battle of Venom with a portion of the Venomian treasury and an experimental weapon that can generate an artificial black hole. The ship itself is heavily shielded, heavily armored for a capitol ship of its size, and possesses the fastest warp drive engine ever invented. It can reach warp factors twice as high as the Commonwealth's fastest ships, and it was built to wage a hit-and-run campaign in the event that Venom lost the war," Morrow lectured, "If Andrew Oikonny had control of this ship during the Oikonny Rebellion, he likely would've destroyed the Commonwealth fleet sent to stop him, as well as Team StarFox, and could've continued on to Corneria as the Aparoids invaded. To prevent Oikonny from getting the ship, Zaius abandoned the _Xerxes_ and programmed it to warp randomly through the corridor between Sectors X and Z. If any ship should happen to come in range, the ship will automatically warp away.

"The only way to deactivate this feature and establish control of the ship is through the use of two copy-proof holodiscs, which give the user the stellar coordinates of the ship as well as the ability to board it. This ship is the reason that we couldn't risk a more direct way of liquidating the Remnant. If, by chance, Zaius survived, or someone else got possession of the discs, they would have the perfect ship to terrorize all of Lylat with, and enough money to fund a sizeable army. The immediate objective of Swordfish has been to find a way to neutralize the _Xerxes_, allowing us to liquidate the Remnant without risk of reprisals, which should enable the rebels to gain ground and destabilize the Pedrano government before it can nationalize our resources on the Lasko Coast. A possible secondary objective has been to gain control of the _Xerxes_, so that its technological innovations can be studied and used by the Commonwealth."

"And how is the CSB planning to catch this uncatchable ship?" Bolton inquired.

Morrow exhaled through her nose and cleared her throat once again, shifting her stance. It was starting to feel uncomfortable standing this long in high heels.

"We've been working on that for the past few months. There didn't seem to be an easy way to get a hold of the discs, and we didn't know if both discs were in Zaius' camp on Fortuna or stored somewhere else for safekeeping. By next week, one of the deadlines set by the Pedrano government will pass and off-world shipments of ore from the Lasko Coast will stop. We were beginning to get desperate, when approximately three weeks ago the CSB was approached with an opportunity," Morrow explained, "An individual identifying itself as Kursed, a vigilante linked to acts of violence against cartel groups on Macbeth, Zoness and Corneria, contacted us and claimed to have independently arranged for the discs to be surrendered. Kursed claimed that the first disc was in the possession of Dash Bowman, Andross' grandson and head of the Ape Liberation Front headquartered in Apollo, and he would turn over the disc in exchange for the ALF's removal from the CSB terrorism watch list. Kursed claimed that the second disc was in Zaius' possession at his Remnant camp, and that he would surrender the disc if offered a pardon for all crimes against the Commonwealth, signed by His Grace the Prime Minister."

Bolton's hologram looked over to Robert Fitzroy's image, leaning forward in his chair and uncrossing his arms.

"That's all they wanted? There's a surprise," Bolton muttered.

"It's not what they got," Fitzroy chuckled, "We erased all record of the pardon for Zaius the moment I signed it. The orangutan signed a meaningless file."

"Kursed left additional instructions," Morrow continued, "That, rather than using a team of CSB operatives to make the exchanges and escort her, we hire the privateer group Team StarFox."

"I didn't like that part at first," Fitzroy remarked, "Freelancers, even StarFox, are unpredictable, especially when you want something done quietly. It's hard to forget the scandal they caused when James McCloud was captured on Venom doing secret missions for George Pepper. A bunch of people lost their jobs because of that."

"It was determined that it was the most appropriate course of action, the time constraints left us little option but to use the opportunity Kursed presented us. Using StarFox also allowed the CSB and the Commonwealth's government to have plausible deniability in case they failed. The chances were high, since the rendezvous between Kursed and StarFox was leaked to every assassin and mercenary wanting to claim the ship or the price on Kursed's head. So we went ahead with the operation, and despite setbacks, I am pleased to report that the immediate objective of Swordfish has been achieved," Morrow informed the holograms.

"Now we're at the point that I was up to," Fitzroy remarked, "Let's hear what's been happening down on Fortuna, Gillian."

"Of course, Your Grace," Morrow replied, shifting her position as her white tail swiped through the air, "Approximately thirty-four hours ago, Team StarFox reported to be in possession of the first disc, that they had rendezvoused with Kursed and were on their way to Fortuna. Special Agent Rupert Frost instructed Commander Fox McCloud to send a confidential message to alert us when they had reached the camp. Using monitoring devices installed on the StarFox mothership while she was docked at the CCS _James McCloud_'s commissioning ceremony, we were able to trace the location of Commander McCloud's team in the Fortunan jungle when he sent us this alert at approximately 2200 hours yesterday, Cornerian Standard Time. We then sent the location of the Remnant camp to several rebel factions in the Kongis Jungle that the CSB has contacts with, instructing them all to attack the camp at the earliest possible time. It was our thought that by the time the rebels attacked the Remnant, the disc exchange would be completed and StarFox would be on their way to securing the _Xerxes _for us. We did not anticipate how quickly the rebels would act."

"This doesn't sound like a happy story," Fitzroy commented with a chuckle.

Morrow smiled as if to humor her boss, then she continued.

"One rebel faction quickly organized a large contingent of troops and light assault skimmers to attack the Remnant camp immediately, converging on the camp at approximately 22:45 yesterday. The attack began while Commander McCloud's team was still in the camp, with _both _discs possibly being in play. The probability of the discs falling out of StarFox's possession and into the hands of another party was high. To further complicate matters, at approximately 23:25, a close-support craft from a separate rebel faction carried out an air-strike on the Remnant camp using neypol supplied by the CSB," Morrow briefed, breathing in as she reached the most delicate part, "Monitoring the situation from the CCS _Jeremiad_, I made the decision that such a disorganized rebel attack, while sure to cause wide destruction, also left opportunities for a prepared force to evacuate, as well as the possibility that Remnant forces in the camp's buildings or in underground tunnels surrounding the camp might survive. If StarFox lost the discs during the attack, any Remnant survivors could gain control of the discs and thus the _Xerxes_, and with it threaten the Commonwealth. I was not willing to allow such a risk. At 23:40, I commanded the _Jeremiad_ to jump alone into orbit over Fortuna and commence a concentrated orbital bombardment on the areas of the Remnant camp and the surrounding jungle, to completely sterilize the area of any survivors that might've remained."

Bolton's amber eyes swelled with surprise, and Robert Fitzroy leaned forward in his chair with a frown.

"You bombarded a world we were at peace with, without my consent? Without even _asking _me, Gillian?" Fitzroy demanded, his voice rising with disbelief.

"There were exigent circumstances that required an immediate response, Your Grace," Morrow replied coolly, "The situation required that I act or risk a terrible threat being posed to the safety of our Commonwealth. I chose to act. The _Jeremiad_'s bombardment was confined to the area of the Remnant camp and the surrounding jungle, the only casualties were rebels and Remnants."

Fitzroy sighed, then looked off for a moment.

"At least tell me you weren't detected," he groaned.

"At approximately ten minutes past zero hour, I ordered the bombardment to cease when we determined that all of the structures in the camp had been destroyed and all life in the area had been neutralized. I am confident that Zaius and all leadership of the Venomian Remnant were killed in either the attack, the air strike or the _Jeremiad_'s bombardment," Morrow answered, "At twelve minutes past zero hour, the _Jeremiad _warped away from Fortuna and rejoined the rest of the CSB Enforcement Fleet in Zoness space. During our time in orbit, there were no attempts by planetary authorities to hail or intercept us, and we spent less than thirty five minutes in Fortunan space. The _Jeremiad_'s electronic countermeasures prevented us from being detected by long-range scans, and in the confusion of the rebel attack and the air strike on the camp itself, it is likely that the bombardment will be mistaken for another rebel faction attacking the camp. If it is not, the _Jeremiad _left no trace aside from the damage done to the jungle."

Robert Fitzroy looked relieved, and the frown slowly faded from his muzzle.

"What about Team StarFox and the discs? Did they make it out?" the Prime Minister asked.

Gillian Morrow nodded.

"Our monitoring devices gave us enough intel to conclude that the StarFox Team survived the attack and successfully reached orbit with the discs in their possession. If they follow the parameters of their contract, they will proceed to the _Xerxes _and secure the ship for our custody," the she-wolf answered.

"Forgive me for what might seem a naïve question, but I'm new to hearing about this," Bolton growled, "We're arranging for a lot of people to get killed here. Not just our enemies in the Venomian Remnant, but all of the people that the rebels are going to kill with the weapons we're giving them. And the people caught in the crossfire between the rebels and the Fortunan government."

"The Venomian Remnant has committed several atrocities, both on Fortuna and in the Lylat System at large when they were members of the Venomian Army. No one will mourn their deaths, nor would anyone blame us for lying about pardoning them," Morrow remarked frigidly, her golden eyes narrowing down on the ram's hologram.

"I agree," Bolton said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "But what are we doing all this for in the end? A ship? To make sure that _we_ can carve minerals out of Fortuna's crust to turn a profit instead of them? It may hurt the economy not to do so, but the Commonwealth was founded on principles of letting each world determine its own destiny. Just a thought."

Robert Fitzroy began to frown again, while Gillian Morrow's yellow eyes looked down on the Field Marshal like he was an insect, her nose wrinkling like she'd smelled something offensive.

"The Commonwealth may have been founded on those principles, but my job is to act in the Commonwealth's _interest_, which rarely aligns with its principles. Principle is fine up to a certain point, but principle is _meaningless_ if you lose. Principles will not keep Corneria's struggling starship industry afloat, nor will they replace the starfleet ships destroyed by the Aparoids. Those resources will. I am _not _a wolf of principle, Marshal Bolton; I am a wolf of action. If His Grace does name you General of the Armed Forces, I would hope that you are a ram of the same stock," Gillian Morrow replied icily.

Field Marshal Bolton only chuckled, then waved a hand dismissively as Robert Fitzroy shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I think that's all for now, Gillian," Fitzroy nodded, sitting up in his chair, "Thanks for sitting in on this, Bolton, you should hear from me soon."

The ram nodded, then his hologram winked away.

"Remember to keep me updated on Swordfish," the Labrador instructed, "Tell me what happens with that ship. Now that the Remnant's been neutralized, I want an evaluation in a month on the progress of the war. See if you can get the Fortunans to back down from seizing the coast now that their boogeymen are gone."

"As you wish, Your Grace," Morrow nodded.

"And don't ever do something like bombing a planet without my order again, Gillian," he warned sternly. It was very hard to think of the handsome, gentle canine as even remotely threatening, but she humored him anyway.

"Of course, Your Grace," she replied, wondering if he would notice that she hadn't apologized.

Apparently he didn't, and the Prime Minister of the Cornerian Commonwealth bid her good night as his hologram disappeared and the transmission ended.

She allowed herself a small smile as she walked slowly across the room and commanded the viewport to become transparent, watching the grey slowly replaced by the view of tropical Zoness far below. It was all coming together, just as she'd engineered. StarFox, Kursed, even the Prime Minister, she was using them all in her own way to get exactly what she wanted.

As valuable as the _Xerxes _might be to the Commonwealth, it would be Gillian Morrow and the CSB reaping the benefits of the elusive ship. The powerful warp drives of the Venomian battleship would be reverse-engineered for the exclusive use of the CSB Enforcement Fleet, putting her in control of the fastest ships in the Lylat System. The super-weapon that could create an artificial black hole would be hers to research and possess. But it was the treasury, the 217 billion Liat that she had the biggest plans for. She was willing to part with half of the _Xerxes_' plunder in order to buy StarFox's silence. The other half would be mysteriously lost, only to end up in anonymous CSB slush funds for her private use. She would use the money to fund the election campaigns of any politician and Prime Minister that the Commonwealth could produce, while her vast spy network gathered enough blackmail to ruin the careers of those she wanted ruined and control those that she didn't. All the while, they would continue to expand the CSB's power, with her at command until her death.

A subordinate had once jokingly accused her of wanting to be Prime Minister someday.

Before she'd sent him to man a run-down safe house in the desert of Papetoon, she'd responded: "Prime Minister? Do you know how much _power_ I'd have to give up to be Prime Minister?"

The Prime Minister only acted on what he knew, and he only knew what she allowed him to. But there were _so _many things he didn't know, and didn't _want _to know. If knowledge was power, then Gillian Morrow was a goddess among mortals.

And after StarFox delivered the _Xerxes _to her, she always would be.

She allowed her smile to deepen before she turned and began to walk towards the conservator, her high heels clicking on the polished white floor. She would reward herself with another glass of that honey wine after all.

A tapping on the door to her cabin stopped the she-wolf in her tracks.

"Come," she instructed, her golden eyes on the door.

The door slid open, and a middle-aged badger in a suit leaned through the doorway.

"Director Morrow, I'm getting a transmission from Fox McCloud," Rupert Frost informed her, "What should I tell him?"

Gillian Morrow replied in a cool, husky voice, "Only what he needs to know."


	15. Too Late to Say You're Sorry

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hope you all had a happy Halloween, cause it's time for another update! This chapter is the real meat of what the previous one started out as, because I realized that I needed to wrap some subplots up and develop a few more before everyone can move on to the final confrontation. There's a lot of things going on in this chapter between the characters, so I'd really love a review to know what you guys think. The title of this chapter comes from the classic song "She's Not There", which I really feel captures the situation between Fox and Krystal at this point in the story. You'll also probably pick out a few fun little references. Enjoy yourselves and get ready for the final act, kids, we're in the homestretch.-TU**  
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* * *

**-Too Late to Say You're Sorry-**

Fox's mouth hung open in outrage as he listened to Rupert Frost's hologram in front of him. He'd known the badger since the day he came to the Cornerian Flight Academy to deliver news of his father's capture on Venom, and he'd never felt so betrayed as the CSB agent lied to his face with the same officious courtesy and politeness that he'd shown on that day years ago.

"You _can__'__t _deny this, Frost, I saw what I saw!" Fox argued irately, "Those were pulse lasers from a _Trafalguis _cruiser in orbit over Fortuna. A cruiser with the CSB's crest painted on the side. The CSB bombarded that camp when I was barely out of there, and I want to know _why_!"

"Fox, do you know what you're suggesting?" Rupert Frost demanded calmly, "That the Commonwealth Security Bureau bombarded Fortuna during a state of peace. Something like that could trigger an interstellar war-"

"Which is why you need to tell me what the hell is going on," Fox cut off, "I thought the CSB wanted to pardon Zaius in exchange for the discs. The place gets attacked and firebombed less than an _hour_ after we send you word that we've arrived, and that's suspicious enough. But then it's glassed from orbit by a CSB ship! Do you think I'm stupid? I don't know how long you've been lying to me, but I've bled too much over this mission to put up with any more bullshit!"

The hologram flickered as Agent Frost breathed heavily and adjusted his tie, then looked back at Fox.

"Commander McCloud, I am not aware of any such operations, nor would I be in the position to discuss them if such events were later found to have occurred," Frost droned, as if he'd read the words off a card, "You have your orders and your contract has not changed. You are to proceed with your mission. Use the discs to locate and secure the _Xerxes_ for CSB custody. I remind you that the events of this assignment fall under the State Secrets Act and that any public disclosure will result in the revocation of Team StarFox's charter and charges of sedition being brought against you and your subordinates."

"This. Is. Bullshit!" Fox barked, and was about to say more when Peppy came up beside him, regarding the hologram with a frown.

"Rupert, please," the rabbit appealed, "After all these years, you owe it to us to keep us in the loop. Don't let us fly blind here."

The CSB agent swallowed and stiffened carefully.

"Lieutenant Commander Hare, Commander McCloud, I have nothing further to say," Frost answered aloofly, "We're done here."

The ghostly image of the badger disappeared from the floor of the _Great __Fox_'s bridge, the bright green words **Call ****Ended **floating in the space he'd occupied before they vanished as well.

Fox's emerald eyes were wide with rage and disbelief as he stared at the empty space in the white floor, and he turned around to everyone else. He and Falco were still in the same clothes they'd worn on Fortuna, having leapt out of their Arwings the moment they touched down in the landing bay to call Rupert Frost for answers. Still soaked in sweat and blood, his fur reeking of smoke and the petroleum smell of neypol, Fox thought he could feel the stifling Fortunan atmosphere weighing down on him even now. Slippy was off to the side, still holding his electro-baton awkwardly, while Peppy's frown and Falco's clenched grimace showed that they were reacting the same way as he was.

As ROB announced that they'd officially left Fortunan space, Fox's eyes landed on Krystal, leaning against the railings that bordered the bridge's command pit. Even she appeared troubled by the CSB's latest moves. Standing weaponless with her hands in binder cuffs, the apprehension vanished from her face the moment she realized Fox was looking at her, revealing no emotion. Something continued to burn in her cyan eyes, like a fire eating her soul.

Fox took the remote to the binder cuffs from Slippy and pressed a button. There was a snap as the binders opened and clattered to the floor, and Krystal rubbed her wrists with slow, measured disconnection.

He was tired of being forced to let things fester and simmer underneath the surface, tired of lies and games and unanswered questions.

"Okay, it's time for that heart-to-heart we've been putting off," Fox fumed, "I want to know why you used the CSB to set us up with you, I want to know _why_you lied to us, sabotaged our ship and stole that disc from us. I deserve an answer."

"I think we have very differing opinions as to what you _deserve_, Fox," Krystal answered coldly, crossing her arms.

"Don't," Fox menaced, "Just…don't. I want a straight answer from you. Why did you do this? What were you hoping to accomplish?"

Peppy, Falco and Slippy said nothing, backing away slowly from the two of them with uncomfortable expressions on their faces. The outrage was evident on Fox's muzzle, and even Krystal's sardonic indifference was replaced by the tightened visage of someone being forced to face something they wished to ignore. Everyone was uncomfortable.

Just as Fox was about to say something, Krystal's voice filled the silence.

"If you want me to be honest, I hadn't really decided what I wanted to accomplish," she answered hoarsely, "I know the idea was, at first, to escape again after we'd gotten the second disc, since I knew I couldn't get it from the Remnant myself. Perhaps humiliate you with the knowledge that I'd made you do all the work in getting the discs, only so I could steal them from under your noses. Then I'd claim the _Xerxes _and its treasury for myself, to do with as I wished. Maybe start my _own_ freelancer group to outshine StarFox. The attack on the Remnant derailed that plan. Now I suppose I'm improvising."

"I could've guessed most of that," Fox growled harshly, "I asked _why_. I know I hurt you. And you have no idea how much I regret it, but-"

"I don't care about your _regrets_. I don't care about _anything_ when it comes to you," Krystal interjected hotly, "You want to know why I sabotaged your ship? Why I lied, why I _fucked_ you then stole your discs and left without a word? Why not just ask why I came back _at __all_? To use you, like an object. To humiliate you, confuse you, and leave you with nothing. Just like all of you left _me_."

Fox's head was spinning, his rage was so great.

"Do you _know_ what I went through, what I put _myself _through since the day we-"

"The things _you__'__ve _been through? As if you're the victim in all this, how _dare_ you!"

"For you to come back and do this without even giving us a chance-"

"Did you expect me to crawl back on my knees and _beg_ for another chance, Fox? Did you think I would _want _everything how it was before, some weak little damsel needing a hero to rescue her? That's not who I am anymore and I _don__'__t _need you to save me!"

"Even with how it ended between us, you didn't just do this to me you did this to all of us, the people who have been with you like a family!" Fox argued, sweeping his arm in the direction of Peppy, Slippy, and Falco.

The composure was disappearing from Krystal's face by the second, no longer cool and collected but outraged and explosive. The fire was raging hotter in her cyan eyes; they looked like they were about to crack with the pressure.

"Family?" she exclaimed, her voice shrieking as it rang throughout the bridge, "With how it tends to fall apart every so often? Everyone's keeping their own secrets and lies, growing further apart with every passing year, all while ignoring the fact that Lylat doesn't want _or _need us anymore! Look around and really think Fox, about the kind of _family _you have here, and whether it _deserves _to survive!"

"Krystal, what _happened _to you?" Fox demanded, looking desperately for some trace of the vixen he'd once known in those bright eyes, watching with shock as she finally erupted.

"You broke my fucking HEART, Fox, that's what happened!" Krystal roared furiously, her eyes filling with wetness, "You gave me the one little slice of joy I had left in the universe and then you took it away and you left me alone in a world that I HATE! I will _never _put myself through that again, _ever_! You fucking destroyed me!"

Her mouth was bared in a bitter snarl of crisp white teeth, but hot tears were staining the pale fur of her cheeks. Everyone, even Fox, was speechless. Krystal glared at him with angry, devastated humiliation, her nose and upper lip quivering as tears coursed silently from the corners of her almond eyes. She wiped her face and then beheld her palm with her teeth clenched in dismay. Then she turned those bright blue eyes back on Fox, as if blaming him for all of it.

"I don't even know who I _am _anymore…" she murmured, her elegant voice now weak and tiny. Then Krystal turned on her heel and made her way swiftly off the bridge, her hand on her forehead as the doors slid open before her.

Fox took a few steps after her, his mouth open to say something when Peppy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, not now," the old rabbit told him firmly.

"I…I've got to say something…" Fox trailed off quietly as the bridge doors hissed shut.

"No you don't. That's not going to make things better right now. She needs to be alone. I'd suggest you do a bit of the same. Sit down, do some thinking and maybe consider the idea that we've caused that girl more hurt than she's caused us, including _you_," Peppy instructed, "I'm going to give her a few moments, then _I__'__m_ going to try talking to her. Everyone else, stay away from wherever it is she's going. I'm sure you can make yourselves useful. Slippy, get to work on decoding those holodiscs and finding out where the _Xerxes_ is; we've still got a mission to take care of. I'm sure you can stay out of trouble, too, Falco."

Falco and Slippy both nodded and made their way towards the doors, making sure that Krystal wasn't in the B Deck corridor before quietly making their exit.

Alone on the bridge with Peppy aside from ROB, Fox looked into the leporid's brown eyes, watching the light dance off the lenses of his glasses. He thought he'd prepared himself for anything Krystal could've done or said. He wasn't prepared for that. Fox was a confused little cub again, craving Peppy's guidance.

"So now you know why she did it," Peppy said softly in his raspy voice, "Do you feel satisfied?"

"I don't really know _what _to feel," Fox answered, his voice barely above a whisper. After being so angry and confused at Krystal, he'd come full circle to the sad guilt he'd felt before the mission started. It was even worse now, knowing for sure that she'd been damaged so thoroughly as a result of his actions.

"I told you, if she didn't care, we would never have seen her again. All of this is proof that she cares, even though she doesn't want to," the old rabbit told him.

"How do I make it better?" Fox inquired wearily.

"As I said: give yourself a little time," he answered, "Clear your head. Try to get some perspective. We've got the discs; we can go to the ship whenever we want to. And I don't think _she__'__s_ going anywhere this time, either."

Fox nodded, scratching the back of his neck. His tail hung limp behind him as he started towards the bridge doors.

"**Fox**," ROB-64's synthetic voice called from the forward control station. He looked back at the android without a word.

"**However ****inconvenient ****it ****may ****be, ****as ****Commander ****it ****is ****urgent ****that ****you ****are ****made ****aware ****of ****the ****damages ****done ****to ****the **_**Great **__**Fox **_**by ****the ****recent ****trans-atmospheric ****warp**," the robot informed him.

"The ship looked pretty intact from outside," Fox remarked slowly, knowing that ROB wouldn't have said something if it wasn't important. He still wanted nothing more than to retreat to his quarters and be alone.

"**Appearances ****aside, ****the ****effects ****of ****atmospheric ****friction, ****Fortuna****'****s ****gravitational ****field ****and ****the ****spatial ****displacement ****of ****warping ****in ****and ****out ****of ****an ****atmosphere ****caused ****significant ****stress ****to ****the ****ship****'****s ****armor ****and ****air frame**," ROB explained, "**Diagnostic ****systems ****have ****detected ****hairline ****fractures ****in ****almost ****twenty ****five ****percent ****of ****the ****ship****'****s ****outer ****hull ****plating, ****as ****well ****as ****significant ****over stress ****on ****the ****support ****structure ****comprising ****the ****neck ****section ****of ****the ****ship. ****Optimistically, ****these ****repairs ****will ****require ****at ****least ****three ****weeks ****of ****orbital ****dry dock ****to ****restore ****the ****ship ****to ****prime ****condition. ****Independently ****of ****these ****damages, ****the ****superstructure ****of ****the ****lower ****starboard ****wing ****has ****been ****severely ****compromised. ****Significant ****additional ****stress ****may ****result ****in ****complete ****loss ****of ****the ****wing ****surface. ****Unable ****to ****estimate ****the ****time frame ****of ****repairs ****needed ****to ****the ****wing. ****Currently, ****the ****ship ****cannot ****be ****considered ****combat-ready, ****and ****direct ****combat ****operations ****with ****the **_**Great **__**Fox **_**are ****inadvisable. ****Systems ****critical ****to ****flight ****operations ****remain ****in ****prime ****condition, ****however**."

"More good news," Fox muttered tiredly, looking towards Peppy, "You've got some bad habits when it comes to keeping mother ships intact."

"Excuse me for saving your ass," the rabbit smirked, his whiskers curling, "Both times."

He tried to smile, but it felt forced. All that Fox could think about were all of the things swirling around his head, and the need to bring some sense to it all.

"Trust me, Fox," Peppy counseled, "Give it some time. Try to get some perspective, clear and collect your thoughts. When you talk to her again, it can't be a confrontation. I'll try to see where she's at and help her get into a state that she'll be good to talk as well."

"Okay," Fox nodded quietly, "Perspective."

Peppy smiled softly as he nodded, his long ears perking up as he patted Fox on the back.

"It's gonna be all right," the rabbit told him.

Fox tried to believe him as he made his way through the bridge doors.

* * *

"A _snake_?" Panther demanded with a giggle, "Really now?"

"Yeah," Wolf grumbled with a roll of his eye, "Really."

"Ha-ha-ha-ha, I love it," Panther laughed pompously, "The great _Lord_ Wolf O'Donnell, feared and loathed across the Lylat System, mows down dozens of soldiers and shrugs it off when they drop _fire_ on him…only to have his head near-bitten off by a snake."

"It was a _big_ snake," Wolf muttered, slouching down in his chair.

"Oh, I'm _sure _it was, Wolf," the feline replied, the curving white scar on his face bending outward as he grinned.

"Kiss my ass," Wolf grunted, staring at the far off greenish-white globe of Fortuna visible through the large viewport of the _Lone __Wolf_'s rec room.

Though similar in size and function to Cornerian-made _Dreadnought_-class cruisers like the _Great__ Fox_, Venomian _Nostromo_-class ships were made with far less luxury and crew amenities. The rec room was originally designed as a mere observation deck, housing one of the few windows on the ship aside from the bridge's main viewport. Like the rest of the ship, the durasteel walls were the color of rust, with a series of yellow glowpanels shining down either too soft or too harsh from the ceiling. A person who found the sight of blood unsettling might find the interiors of the _Lone__ Wolf_ rather disturbing, and the rec room an uninviting place to relax. StarWolf had filled it with whatever small luxuries they could, including a pair of tattered blue sofas and the dusty leather armchair that Wolf sat in, along with a holoprojector and a WarGames console. After the extraction from Fortuna, Wolf wanted to be somewhere else other than the ship's bridge to unwind a bit before making their next move.

Panther was stretched languidly across one of the sofas, clad in his ostentatious purple white and gold flight suit, an open can of Slusho Soda in his hand and a smirk on his face as he looked away from Wolf. A freshly-cut red rose lie on the floor near the sofa, and Panther's free hand occasionally drifted down to fiddle with it absentmindedly. Leon was at a small table behind the sofas, constructing a house from a deck of kabufuda cards. The cold-blooded chameleon hadn't said much since they'd returned on _Fang__ One_. Wolf supposed that Leon was still being passive-aggressive because of his decision to go into the Remnant camp alone, especially since Wolf had made it without really needing him. Wolf was never one to say "I told you so", but Leon was still giving him the silent treatment as if he had. He allowed the chameleon to _think_ that it affected him.

As Wolf shifted in his seat to allow more room for his tail, he resisted the urge to scratch at the itchy synthflesh patch on his chest, peeking out from under the cut of his A-shirt. Within a few hours the synthflesh on the patch would bind to the scorched, injured flesh from the blaster wound he'd taken on Fortuna, and he'd be able to remove it. Until then, however, the feeling was maddening.

"So…" Panther purred, trading his soda can for the rose on the floor and giving it a whimsical wave, "While you were down there in the jungle, did you happen to spot any _females_? Perhaps a certain striking vixen with a royal blue coat, a tail like a feather boa and an ass you could bounce a zenith off?"

"Nope," Wolf grunted, hoping it would stop Panther in his tracks.

"Such a shame," Panther sighed, sniffing the rose and looking up at the glowpanels, "I was hoping you could tell me if she's as _luscious_ as I remember her…"

"How would _I_ know how ya' remember her?" Wolf grumbled, disinterested.

"I remember her as a _vision_," Panther beamed, swishing the rose through the air as if he was painting a portrait on the ceiling, "A rare bloom with just as many thorns as she has petals. I wonder how the time away from McCloud has treated her. If she's realized that she deserves a _real_ male instead of that Cub-Scout. I do hope I see her again."

Wolf ignored Panther, and the feline eventually set down the rose and picked up his soda can.

He still didn't know what to make of the reappearance of the strange vixen. She'd been separated from McCloud for about a year or so, during which time she'd apparently became one of the biggest nightmares the criminal underworld had ever seen. He hadn't seen much of her, but from what had happened so far, Wolf got the feeling that she wasn't really working with StarFox the way that she used to.

He wasn't sure of it, but he had a theory that it had been _her_ at the helm of the _Pleiades_ when it warped away from Cornerian space the other day. It didn't make much sense for StarFox to send out their unarmed shuttle ahead of the _Great __Fox_, but it all came together if the ship had been _stolen _by Krystal. The idea that McCloud was having a hard time with his ex-girlfriend brought a smile to Wolf's muzzle.

"IG still workin' on that program ta' slave tha' warp drive to the beacon?" Wolf inquired to no one in particular after a few moments of silence.

"Yes," Panther answered, tipping the soda can to his lips and taking a slurp, "He said he'd come down when it was done. The beacon's sending off information and the _Great__ Fox_ still hasn't left the sub-system. Right now it's just a waiting game…speaking of which, you mind if I spark up a coffin nail? I haven't had one since we left Corneria."

"You can smoke in the _airlock_ if ya' want," Wolf smirked, "Just make sure ya' vent that shit when you're done."

"Oh come on!" he whined, "It's not that big of a deal to do it on the ship. The atmosphere scrubbers filter it all out eventually, if you're worried about your precious little lungs, Wolf."

"And the whole ship smells like an ash tray for days," Leon added, delicately placing two kabufuda against each other to support another level of his card house.

"It does _not_," the feline pouted, "Come off it, Wolf. Leon gets his little dissection room all to himself. I can't be left to my vices?"

"Either an airlock or tha' hangar bay," Wolf dismissed, "My ship, my rules."

Panther let out an overly dramatic groan, narrowing his golden eyes.

"That's across the ship and I'm so comfortable right here…" Panther sighed, "You tyrant. I'll go for one later. I'm _bored_ now. Where's the remote?"

Neither Wolf nor Leon provided an answer. Panther began to dig around amongst the cushions of the sofa, becoming progressively more annoyed with every passing moment that he failed in his treasure hunt. As Panther searched for the remote, Wolf reached over to a scuffed end table near his chair, grabbing a thick silver disc-shaped personal holo-unit and turning it on. The tiny projector flashed a welcome message, and a series of numbers ran through the vision of Wolf's implant as the device interfaced with the small but powerful computer inside. He put the device on his lap and watched as several small icons appeared in front of him. While most people interacted with holographic displays through the use of special gloves or voice commands, Wolf's implant allowed him to interact with the device through thought commands alone, though it had required some practice to master.

The Ł-symbol icon suddenly lit up and the other icons disappeared, replaced by a flat page reading out a summary of the StarWolf Team's several bank accounts, all registered under false names and aliases. StarWolf's accounts were spread out over a handful of institutions, though for the most part they were registered with banks on Fortuna, Macbeth or in so-called "free banks", institutions based on stations in interstellar space, outside of the jurisdiction of planetary authorities. As Wolf began running numbers through his head, Panther tore a black plastic remote control from the depths of the couch with a grunt.

"There!" the feline proclaimed, "There is _no_ way that could've gotten there on its own. Which one of you hid it? Seriously, hiding the remote is a crime punishable by death in some places."

After neither Leon nor Wolf answered him, Panther muttered something and reclined back on the sofa, activating the cylindrical holoprojector unit on the floor in the middle of the room. The projector clicked a bit and warmed up, then a burst of light came out of the top of the device and a large purple M appeared in the air in front of the main viewport.

"You're watching The M!" a voice announced, "Stay tuned for our release coverage of _Evil X_, the brand new album from Clash at Demonhead! But first, it's a brand-new episode of QuestForce!"

The purple M scooted over to the side as a cocky-looking red-furred vulpine with blue eyes and black fur on the tips of his ears strutted into view wearing a navy jacket and a green scarf. On the vulpine's sleeve was the skeletal outline of a serpentine dragon with fleshless wings spread like spider legs. Behind the fox stood a stern-looking female cat with lavender eyes and a mackerel tabby pattern of stripes in her fur, wearing the same type of jacket and crossing her arms.

"When Miranda tries reigning in Justin, she gets a lot more than she bargained for and deals with a rift in the team! And things start heating up on the _Deadwing_ when Logan gets a bit too close to the team's new client," the announcer promised, "Get ready for more drama, action and explosions with QuestForce, only on The M!"

Tuning out the sounds from the holoprojector, Wolf came up with a sum in his head and frowned, looking over the accounts. StarWolf was losing money. They definitely had to walk away with _something_ after this mission, or things were going to be harder than usual. With a thought, the hologram of the bank readouts vanished and the icons of the holo-unit's main menu reappeared. The icon representing Wolf's e-mail box glowed and expanded into a list of unopened messages as the title sequence of QuestForce began to play loudly in front of all of them.

"Panther, turn that down," Leon instructed, "Or _off_. I can't concentrate with that garbage on."

"Life is _filled_ with little difficulties, Leon," Panther mused, downing the rest of his soda and crushing the can in his hand, "All we can do is deal with them."

"So that's a _no_?" Leon demanded, his eyelid twitching.

"You bet it is."

"Fine," Leon hissed, slinking away from his card house and snatching the remote off the armrest of the sofa, heading back to his table before pressing a button. The QuestForce holograms winked out as the holoprojector deactivated.

"Hey!" Panther snapped angrily, glaring over the couch at Leon.

"Life is filled with these little difficulties, Panther," Leon sneered, waving the remote in his hand.

"Fine then," Panther shrugged, flinging his empty soda can through the air and into Leon's card house, blasting it apart in a scatter of kabufuda. The chameleon shot towards the couch, a green blur as Panther launched himself out of his seat with an energetic laugh.

"Fucking _kill_ you!" Leon snapped as he leapt over the sofa and chased Panther furiously around the holoprojector, and for a split-second Wolf considered letting it happen, but then he started to get annoyed.

"Shut it tha' fuck down, both a' ya! You're actin' like a pair a' fuckin' kids, now stop grab-assin!"

Both Leon and Panther froze in place, Leon with his spidery hand around Panther's collar as the feline's leg stretched out to stride forward. Leon shoved Panther away with a roll of his yellow eyes, tossing the remote back onto the couch as he returned to his pile of kabufuda cards. As Panther made his way back to the sofa across the room, Wolf looked back to his unread messages and scanned over them, noting a message from Connolly asking for an update. Then his eye locked onto a message from one recipient curiously, and his furred brow wrinkled. The message had been routed to his inbox through a pair of ghost accounts, originally sent to an e-mail account registered on Katina. He'd only given the address for the account to one person: His sister, Jess, the only one of his siblings that he'd ever been remotely close to, on the day that he'd run away with Leon to start StarWolf and eventually join the Venomian Army. He hadn't received a message at that account in _years_.

The message opened and Wolf began to read, while behind him the door slid open with a hiss and a skeletal-looking android with yellow photoreceptors and a body of brownish-black metal walked into the room, his footsteps clicking against the metal floor.

"**Lord**** O****'****Donnell,**** I**** am**** pleased ****to ****report ****that ****the ****program**** to ****slave ****our ****warp ****drive ****to ****the ****homing ****beacon****'****s ****signal ****has ****been ****written ****and ****uploaded ****to ****the ****navicomputer. ****All ****we**** need ****do ****is ****wait ****for ****the **_**Great **__**Fox **_**to ****jump ****to**** warp ****and ****follow ****them ****to ****the **_**Xerxes**_**. ****Do ****you ****have ****any ****additional**** orders?**" IG-N 96 reported in his synthetic, reedy voice as he strode up beside Wolf's armchair.

Wolf barely heard him.

His focus was completely on the message in front of him. He read it again to make sure that he'd gotten it right, and it almost didn't sound real. Words like "sorry" and "family" jumped out at him, but they didn't sound like they had any place being addressed towards him. Wolf had left any notion of family behind a long time ago. And yet, the message still managed to stop him in his tracks and wipe everything else from his mind.

His jaw felt loose, and he held the holo-unit gently in his left hand as he got up from his chair and stepped into the middle of the room, reading the message for a third time.

"**My**** Lord? ****Is ****something ****wrong?**" IG inquired, coming up on Wolf's right.

"Wolf? What is it?" Leon asked softly, coming slowly around towards him as Panther silently got up from the sofa and came up behind IG.

When Wolf tried to explain, it still didn't sound real.

"My…my father's dead."

There was a moment of grave quiet that seemed to last forever, and Wolf suddenly began to feel a heavy weight in his chest. For some reason, he thought back to that little rabbit boy on Aquas that he'd orphaned, the look in those blue eyes as he'd stared at Wolf.

IG was the one to break the silence, nonchalantly pondering, "**So ****who **_**else **_**was ****cut ****out ****of ****the**** will?**"

Wolf tore his blaster out of the holster and blew off the android's foot. He was on his way out the door even as IG-N 96 fell into Panther's arms with a synthetic yelp of surprise.

"Wolf…?" Leon called, taking off through the open doors after the StarWolf leader.

Panther just stared at the doors in confusion, then he looked down at the one-footed droid leaning into his chest as if he had the answer.

"**Well,**** he****'****s ****never ****done**_** that **_**before**," IG remarked dryly.

* * *

After taking a shower to wash the last remnants of Fortuna off his body, Fox slathered provitate on his wounds and bandaged them up, then changed into a new, clean flight suit and put on his white Team StarFox jacket. All the while, Peppy's counsel echoed through his head, and he soon found himself leaving his quarters and venturing across the hall, rapping on Falco's door.

"Yo," Falco's muffled voice came from within.

"It's me," Fox called back.

A moment later, the door slid open, revealing a damp-feathered Falco wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans, the toned muscles of his chest outlined under the shiny blue plumage.

"What's up?" the avian inquired.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure. Gimme a minute, okay?"

Fox nodded as the door slid closed, and gazed at the stars visible through the viewport at the end of the hall. After a few moments, the door opened once again and Falco was wearing a plain white v-neck tee shirt, the feathers on his head slicked back in the fashion they usually were. He waved Fox in with a wing-like hand, and he stepped into the cabin. The glowpanel in the ceiling was on, giving off sterile white light, otherwise the room hadn't changed since Fox had last seen it: floors strewn with clothes and the occasional unopened moving box, the walls plastered with a collage of band posters, holofilm ads and various other pictures, the air reeking vaguely of body odor and feather styling wax.

"Take a seat," Falco invited, gesturing to the chair up against a remarkably clear desk with a closed portable computer on top.

Fox sat down in the desk chair, leaning back with a sigh as Falco went over to the bookshelves built into the wall at the head of his recessed bunk, scanning through the wide selection of liquor bottles full and empty on the shelves.

"What do ya' wanna drink?" Falco inquired, looking back at him.

"I don't think that's a great idea," Fox answered, thinking it counterproductive to what he wanted to talk to his friend about.

"Dude, lighten up. Ya' just spent a few hours in tha' jungle with your psycho ex-girlfriend, gettin' shot at an' firebombed, and ta' crown it off, Wolfie shows up. Then that mess happened on tha' bridge, and I guess we're gettin' ready ta' talk some more heavy shit on toppa' that. You need a _drink_, man, and so do I. Now what'll ya have?" Falco argued insistently, his right brow rising up.

"What is there?" Fox conceded, moving his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"We got Redwall Rum, half a fifth a' Baskerville, a bottle a' Stoker Absinthe I haven't opened yet, and this real good Minerva stuff. Ya know what, I don't have any mixers, so let's just do Minerva on tha' rocks," the avian replied, pulling out a bottle three-quarters full with aged Minerva Ambrosia. Falco then went to the shelves on the other side of his bed, grabbing a pair of lowball glasses before setting the bottle down and opening a small Conservatron IceBox on the lower shelf and scooping out four ice cubes for each glass. He opened the bottle of Minerva and poured a stream of thick golden-colored liquid into each glass, stopping when each glass was almost a quarter full. Then he put the bottle back on the shelf and handed a glass to Fox, sitting on his bunk across the room and remarking, "Don't worry, it's my first drink all day…I think."

Fox gave him a look and tilted his head to the side, and the fleshy corners of the avian's beak turned up as he said, "I'm jokin', fuzzball, take it easy. Ya wanna straw?"

Fox shook his head as Falco produced a thin plastic bendy-straw and plopped it into his drink.

"You're lucky ya' don't need one," he mused, "I don't have _lips_, so I gotta have a straw or these special glasses they make just for birds. Kind of a pain in the ass. Cheers."

They clinked their glasses together and Fox took a sip, feeling his sinuses clear out as the strong liquid warmed its way down his throat. He brought his lips away and whistled softly in surprise.

"Strong stuff," he smiled pleasantly.

"Ya' gotta sip it, just light enough ta' taste it. Otherwise it's gonna burn all tha' way down," Falco commented, taking a sip through his straw, "So…I can guess what ya' came here to talk about."

Fox let his arm rest against his thigh, holding the drink in between his legs as he sat.

"Peppy told me to clear my head and get some perspective. He said that when I talk to Krystal again, it can't be a confrontation. So, I figured that if I'm going into this with a clear mind, I need to settle what's been brewing between the two of us. You need to tell me the deal with this drinking situation, and I owe you an explanation for what happened to me at Glamorama," Fox detailed.

"So who goes first?"

"I was hoping you would."

"Nah-uh, Foxie. At least you've got an _idea_ about my issues. I don't know _what _tha' hell was wrong with ya' back there in Apollo. But I'll bet it's heavier than what's wrong with me. You go first."

Fox swallowed and looked down, taking another sip of ambrosia and wincing at the syrupy bitter aftertaste.

How could he explain what was happening with his visions when he didn't entirely understand the reason behind them? He thought back to what Wolf said on Fortuna.

Before he'd come to Falco's room, Fox had looked up what he could find on Dalianide exposure, and the results weren't inspiring. He wasn't even sure how to begin.

"Hey, ya' don't hafta make a speech, just tell me what was up with you in that club," Falco encouraged softly, his blue raptor's eyes gentle and lacking their usual sarcasm and disdain.

Falco's rare softness gave Fox the fortitude to bring it out.

"Do you remember what Wolf poisoned me with on Temple? The stuff that made me see things that I didn't know were hallucinations?" Fox said quietly.

"Yeah. Dalianide, right?" Falco nodded.

"I still see things sometimes."

The blue feathers above Falco's eyes ruffled slightly.

"And it does other things, too," Fox continued softly, "It makes me feel sick. I can't keep my balance. And there's no telling when I'm going to get another flashback. Usually, I just see something that triggers it and it happens."

"So when you were freakin' out at tha' club, you were trippin'? What kinda stuff does it make ya' see?" Falco inquired.

"Never anything pleasant. It depends on the environment. When Wolf drugged me on Temple, I would just black out and see whole, complete visions," Fox answered, gulping, "It wouldn't matter what was around me. But whenever I have a flashback…it's like reality gets warped. In some ways, it's worse than before. And it's never convenient when it happens. I flashed back while we were entering Fortuna's atmosphere and I barely kept my Arwing in one piece."

"How much has this been happenin'?" Falco inspected, sipping from his straw.

"They've gotten worse since Glamorama. The most recent one happened after the airstrike on the camp. I guess all the flames triggered it or something. Wolf found me and was halfway through kicking the crap out of me before I got it under control."

"How's that happen? Wolfie doped ya' _months_ ago, how's it still in your system?"

Fox breathed and looked off through the window out into space just above Falco's bunk.

"Wolf…said something to me when he found me down there," Fox answered, almost scared to put it into words, "He said that the Dalianide should've left my system and I should've stopped hallucinating after about a week. Unless it triggered something in my head and…drove me insane. Then it's just my mind making me see things."

"Fox," Falco said with a shake of his head, "Ya' can't believe somethin' he says. He's tha' one that gave ya' that shit in tha' first place, he'd do anything ta' mess with you."

"I looked it up, Falco," Fox replied firmly, his voice heavy with dread, "It says 'frequent negative mental states and stress-inducing stimuli' can…trigger recurring, sometimes chronic hallucinations even after it's left your system. It says that it can trigger schizophrenia in some people. At high enough doses, the stuff can eat your brain tissue and permanently damage your _mind_. And I've got no idea how much Wolf dosed me with."

The rough pads on Fox's palms were soaked with condensation as he squeezed the glass nervously. He could think of nothing that scared him like the possibility of losing his mind.

"Fox," Falco said, gentle but firm as he put a feathered hand on his arm, "You're not crazy. You're stupid."

Fox suddenly burst out laughing, his shoulders going up and down as it came out, smiling involuntarily as he leaned back in the chair and looked at Falco, the smile more evident in his cool blue eyes than at the corners of his beak. The feeling of horror began to ebb, replaced by a tide of relief that Falco was there for him regardless.

"But not crazy," Falco concluded with a shake of his head, "_I__'__m_ tha' crazy one, remember?"

"I dunno, you're pretty stupid, too," Fox chuckled.

"Still smarter than you, fuzzball!" Falco quipped with a raised eyebrow, "At least I got tha' sense ta' know when a girl's damaged goods."

"Armen," Fox concurred with a bittersweet smile, raising his glass and drinking with Falco.

"But ya' said you were able ta' fight it, right?" Falco clarified, taking his beak away from the straw, "Ya got it under control or somethin' in time enough ta' fight StarWolf off."

"Yeah," Fox nodded, lowering his glass, "Lately, I've noticed that I've been able to sort of get it under control. I think there's a part of me that still works normally, even while I'm hallucinating. It's hard to get in touch with that part, but I think that's the key to fighting these flashbacks."

"What was that you were sayin'? About recurring negative mental states?" Falco asked pensively.

"Just that, combined with the proper environment, it's what triggers the visions," Fox returned slowly, "Why?"

"Well, think about what's changed between now an' when ya' were on Temple," Falco suggested, "Tha' team's back together. You're not alone anymore. But there's still one thing ya' haven't fixed. And it's tha reason ya' fell apart in tha' first place."

Fox's green eyes widened as he dwelt on it.  
"Krystal," Fox whispered.

"Ya' said they got worse after Glamorama. That's after she came back," Falco reasoned, "She knows how ta' get in your head, so you're always thinkin' about her an' how it went bad between you two. She's got ya' dwellin' on it an' draggin' ya' back an' forth from anger to confusion to guilt an' back. She's bringin' up a lot a' things ya' said you were goin' through on Temple. Lump that in with tha' clusterfuck this assignment's been, and I'd say you got your negative mental states an' your stress-inducing stimuli an' then some."

"So, you're saying the reason for these flashbacks is that I still haven't resolved my issues with her?" Fox mused.

Falco opened his hands irresolutely, taking another sip of his drink.

"Hey," the avian shrugged, "I'm no shrink, but I'd say it's a pretty good guess. If your mind's still goin' through tha' same shit it was when Wolfie dosed ya, a little stress is all it might take for you ta' see stuff again. Fixin' those issues might be what it takes for it ta' go away. Until then, maybe knowin' tha' cause a' these flashbacks will help ya' fight through 'em."

Fox nodded thoughtfully, already feeling more clearheaded. Falco leaned backwards and sipped through his straw.

"Damn, Academy boy. Tha' shit you go through sometimes. Makes ya' wonder if this hero stuff is all worth it, huh?" the bird wondered.

"Maybe," Fox reflected.

After a moment or so, Fox saved the thoughts on his flashbacks for later and looked back at Falco.

"Well, now it's your turn, Hot-Rodder. We need to talk about _this_," Fox said, bringing up the glass of ambrosia.

"Ahh, shit," Falco grumbled, "Thought ya' might just let it slide."

"Nope. Let's talk," Fox smirked, "I know you've had a history with it. Is there something specific making it worse?"

Falco groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Nah, man," the avian muttered, "It ain't even a problem, it's just a habit. A bad habit, I'll admit. But it's just like any otha' bad habit you've had for most a' your life. It gets better an' worse because of…whatever."

"So what's making it worse _now_?" Fox probed.

"I dunno…" Falco shrugged, "I guess when the team started ta' fall apart, I woulda done it more, but _you_ were tha' one drinkin' your troubles away an' I wanted ta' see if I could help ya' back to yourself. When I left, I spent most a' my time in a bottle. It was just luck I was sober when I got your distress call on Temple. An' after I came back, I laid off it so I could be there an' help ya' rebuild StarFox. Now that everyone's back, it's kinda…"

The avian trailed off, looking off to the side with an uncomfortable grimace visible in his raptor's eyes and at the corners of his beak.

"Kind of what?" Fox investigated delicately.

"Feels different," Falco grunted, scratching the back of his head, "Tha' team's not how it was before. Your problem used ta' be that you were idealistic but so unsure a' yourself. Now ya' got confidence, but it's like ya' don't know what else ta' believe in anymore. Ya' don't smile near as much as ya' used to. Slippy's not as annoying, now he's got a wife ta' do that for him, an' it feels like he's runnin' outta reasons ta' stick around. Peppy's still tha' old man, but I don't think I ever realized tha' size a' those durasteel _balls _a' his. He ran tha' military for a while, an' he didn't bat an eye ramming tha' ship into the Aparoid world or…warping through an atmosphere if that's what he felt like he had ta' do."

Fox nodded, gesturing for Falco to continue. The bird sighed and looked down at his hand, flexing his fist.

"An' what about me?" Falco murmured, "Still tha' same Falco. Still crazy. Still angry. Only I'm gettin' older an' times are changin'. An' I dunno how much longer anyone's gonna put up with my crap. An' what about when that happens? Who else is gonna tolerate my bullshit if you guys won't? Who else is _left_?"

Falco's beak closed with a soft frown, and he looked down at his glass and took a sip from the straw. As he looked back at Fox, he waved his hand dismissively and his eye glazed with his trademark disdainful indifference.

"So I drink sometimes so I don't have ta' think about that stuff," Falco simpered, "Not really more or less than I evah' have, just a little more than recently, I guess. It's not a problem, it's just a bad habit, an' I can reign it in when I wanna. I don't wanna be a dick about it, but I think about it just like I said when we were fightin' over it: What I do ta' myself is really my own business."

Fox bobbed his head thoughtfully, tilting his drink back and draining what was left of the ambrosia, cringing slightly at the aftertaste. Then he set the empty glass down on Falco's desk, ice cubes tinkling together, and leaned towards Falco with his elbows resting on his thighs.

"I'm not going to try to lecture you or order you to stop. I'm not going to take your booze away or anything like that. I just want to share a thought with you, Falco," Fox said, "Growing up around my father and Peppy and the first StarFox Team, then running it as members have retired, left and come back, I've come to realize something about this place, if you want to call it that, this thing we all have here. StarFox isn't this ship, it's not the letters on the side of the hull, it's not our ideals, it isn't even those Arwings in the hangar bay downstairs. The only things that have ever defined this team are the people on it. More than anything, this place is _us_. You, me, Peppy, Slippy…even Krystal, at some point, we are the _only_ reason StarFox means anything. And the reason that we've been able to survive so much and do so much is in large part thanks to the fact that we are _there_ for each other. Forgetting that is what let me cast Krystal out and drown in myself as the team fell apart. I might've lost my mind in the process of learning how important that is. For every one of us, this team is like a _family_. As far as the two of us go, it's all the family we have. And whatever affects one member of a family, affects _all_ of them. Now, what you do to yourself may be, in theory, your own business. But it really isn't."

Falco was silent, looking down quietly at the floor. Fox smiled reassuringly and put a hand on the avian's knee.

"When I was falling apart on Temple without a friend in the universe and you came to help me, I didn't refuse," Fox said softly, "Don't turn me away when I'm returning the favor. We can get through it, Falco, if you have the courage to _try._You don't have to face it alone. You're not alone."

Falco didn't answer, didn't look up at Fox. The corner of his beak was twisted in a strained grimace of someone trying not to react. After a moment, a blue feathered hand tightened into a fist, the thumb sprouting upwards. Fox smiled and got up from the chair, laying a comforting hand on Falco's shoulder.

"I'm glad we could talk like this. I really think it helped both of us. You know, I still remember what you said about birds when you came for me on Temple: No matter how far you fly, you always find your way home, remember that? You are home. You know where I am if you need me. Don't be afraid to need someone else, or for someone else to need you. It means that you're _loved_, Falco. No matter how all of us have changed, that hasn't," Fox whispered.

The blue-plumed avian shook slightly, but still didn't face him. One of Falco's hands dug feathered fingers into his knee.

"I'll see you around, buddy," Fox breathed, walking towards the door and sliding it closed behind him. Moments after Fox was gone, Falco slowly faced upwards and dug his knuckle softly into the corner of his eye. There was something in his eye, that was all.

He looked over to the shelves full of bottles nearby. For the first time in a while, Falco felt like he'd had enough.

* * *

_It __wasn__'__t __supposed __to __be __like __this_, Kursed thought to herself bitterly, _You __weren__'__t __supposed __to __let __this __happen_.

She sat in a cushioned gray chair at the round table in the _Great __Fox_'s galley, the softness of the padding putting her off once again. It was too soft to be comfortable. The room was rather round, with a large stainless steel conservator up against the wall, along with several cupboards above a curving counter top lined with ultrasonic food processors, blenders, a thermal toaster oven and finally a large sink complete with an ultraviolet dish washing ray. On the other side of the room from the conservator and the counters was the circular white table at which she sat, however Kursed's focus was facing out of the room, out of the ship itself, into the dark abyss of space and the twinkling blue stars beyond, through a transparisteel viewport in the hull. She was hunched over, the brown leather gauntlets that stretched up her forearms resting on the tight black armorweave that covered her knees. With a shivering hand, she brushed a lock of ultramarine-colored hair out of her eyes and behind one of her ears, then let her arm fall limply back into her lap.

Things had fallen apart so quickly for her, Kursed couldn't quite figure out where it went wrong.

Her original plan had been to let Fox get the second disc from Zaius, then announce Fox and Falco's identities as they were making their way out of the camp. With a little help from her powers, there would've been at least a few Remnant soldiers stepping forward to give two members of StarFox trouble, and in the confusion she would've grabbed the discs from Fox and made her way back to the _Pleiades_ to escape once again. The attack on the Remnant camp had torpedoed her plans. The orbital bombardment had merely been icing on the cake.

She'd been a fool to trust the CSB. Kursed had learned the price of putting faith in anyone else, or so she'd thought. It was naïve to assume that she was the only manipulator in this farce.

If it had been at all possible to recover from the disaster on Fortuna, Kursed had dashed any hopes of it by letting Fox get to her on the bridge.

_Pathetic __little __thing,_Kursed thought darkly, _breaking __down __like __that. __No __better __than __you __were __before, __weak __ihpmutat_.

She wasn't supposed to give _anyone _the satisfaction of seeing her break, least of all the one who'd broken her in the first place. Kursed did not need anyone. Kursed was unforgiving, unstoppable, and untouchable. The whole point of coming back was to show them all, show _herself_, how she didn't need anyone any more.

Instead, she'd been forced to face everything she was trying to move away from, everything that she'd struggled to forget since the moment she changed her name. A part of her felt like she was back on that skybridge, surrounded by the lights of a world that she did not know, facing the unknown future broken and alone.

_No.__Don__'__t __let __him __put __you __there. __Not __after __all __this __time._

As her hands gripped into painful fists, she heard movement over her shoulder and cast a hostile glance towards the door as it slid open quietly. Kursed relaxed a bit as Peppy Hare moved into the galley with heavy, careful steps, the light of the large glowlamp in the ceiling reflecting off the lenses of his circular glasses. The gray and cream-furred leporid gave her a crooked smile that warped the mustache-like tuft of fur over his lip, his long white incisors slick with saliva.

"Thought I might find you in here," Peppy mused as he sauntered towards the cupboards, "Pretty good view, but relatively secluded. At least until someone's appetite kicks in. I was gonna make some tea. Would you like some?"

Kursed hesitated, gathering the words to respond as Peppy retrieved a box of tea bags and a thermajug from the cupboard and began to fill it with tap water.

"Um…what kind?" Kursed said airily.

"Peppermint," Peppy answered with a smile, closing the thermajug and plugging it in, then pressing a button on the side. After a few moments, a red light on top of the thermajug began to blink, and steam began to waft out of the spout. The old rabbit produced two ceramic mugs from another cupboard and placed a tea bag in each, then poured steaming water until both mugs were nearly full. He put the box of teabags away, then opened the conservator with a low hum, retrieving a small glass bottle of liquid sugar and withdrawing a pair of teaspoons from a drawer. He closed everything and brought the liquid sugar and the two steaming mugs over to the table with a gentle stride.

"Fox drinks coffee and Slippy and Falco do caffeine pills and energy drinks, but I'm a tea-drinking Cornie down to my soul. Always have been," Peppy explained, setting the mugs down and taking a seat across the table from Kursed, "Did you have tea where you came from?"

Kursed paused again, as if trying to gather the letters needed to form a response, before saying quietly, "…After a fashion, yes. It was…different, though…On my world, it was brewed fresh and green. Whenever we dried it, we boiled it with herbs and spices, and mixed it with milk…it was rather like coffee, here."

Peppy nodded as he prodded his tea with his spoon, dipping his teabag a few times before lifting it out of the mug and setting it down on the table. He began to pour liquid sugar into his mug, stirring lightly, then brought the mug up to his lips and sipped, a serene expression washing over his face.

"Ahh. That's the spot," Peppy smiled as he put his mug down and looked at her, "I've got a feeling there's a lot you have bottled up, Krystal. If you want to let any of that out, I'm here to listen to whatever you feel like saying. And if you don't, we can just sit here and enjoy this tea, and each other's company, and this lovely view we've got here."

Kursed allowed herself a faint smile, glancing back out through the viewport before swiveling her seat towards the table to face Peppy.

"You know, you sometimes remind me of my father, Peppy," the vixen breathed quietly, gazing at the wisps of steam that curled up from the mug in front of her.

"I've never heard you talk about him," Peppy replied in a peaceful tone, "What was he like?"

Kursed swallowed and dragged the tea mug across the table to her with both hands, the warmth from the smooth porcelain flowing into her bare fingers and making the rest of her body feel frozen. She did not drink, merely gazed down into the mug as if it would divine the future for her.

"He was _khan-satei__'__ii_…you would call him a holy man. A shaman," Kursed explained with a distant smile, "Even among his caste, he was very gifted. The spirits spoke to him as they did no other. Farmers would ride for weeks so he could bless their crops, parents would bring children from a month's journey away so he could perform their _kudaen __penae __ha__'__te_."

Peppy's brown eyes shrank slightly and his nose quivered as he tentatively sounded the word out, "Kooday…what?"

Kursed sniffed humorously and licked her lips.

"I suppose you could translate it as… 'the star brand.' It was a ritual my people performed when a child had seen their twentieth solstice. They are brought before _khan-satei__'__ii _in the presence of the spirits, and told where they belong. The _khan-satei__'__ii _binds the child to a soul-stone of their own, and brands them with the marks of their caste," she elaborated quietly, touching the turquoise gem on the choker around her neck, absentmindedly tracing the tattoos on her arms under her bodysuit, "After _kudaen __penae __ha__'__te_, the child is no longer _ihpmutat_, no longer un-blooded, but an adult with a place in our world. They leave to forge the staff of their caste and take their rightful place."

Peppy smiled solemnly and nodded, his long ears swaying.

"I'm honored you think so highly of me," the leporid remarked calmly as he took a drink, "He sounds like a very special person."

"He was," Kursed breathed, staring down into her tea, "They all were, until the doom came for my world."

Peppy's smile faded a bit, and he leaned forward.

"We all experience loss at some point, Krystal. You have, I have, so has Fox," Peppy told her softly from across the table, "Life is pain. The beautiful thing is that we can move on from that pain, and keep going until things get better. But you can't move on from it until you face it and come to grips with it. Until you learn to forgive."

Kursed looked up from her tea, her cyan eyes hard as gemstones, "Don't call me that anymore, Peppy. And why _should _I forgive? Why should I give him the _satisfaction _of knowing I've been hurt?"

"Because it's _normal _to be hurt," Peppy urged her, "Forgiveness isn't weak, it's proof that you've healed. That you have the strength to bounce back after something hurts you, instead of letting it bring you down. And I wasn't talking about just forgiving the people that hurt you. I'm talking about forgiving _yourself_, as well."

"Myself?" Kursed demanded, baring her teeth, "What would I need to forgive _myself _for?"

"For surviving," Peppy answered tenderly, "For being the only one of your world to survive where all others didn't. You can forgive yourself for that. It's okay to be glad for it, even. It's okay to love people again. It doesn't mean you're weak."

Kursed shook her head angrily, biting her lip.

"I'm done with that, Peppy. I'm not the kind of person that _does _that anymore. I am _never _going to invest too much emotion in something ever again. It's just a set up to the pain of losing them."

The old rabbit sighed and looked down into his tea.

"That's a very sad way to live. No one to trust, no one to be close to. Facing the darkness alone. Driven by anger and guilt instead of hope and compassion. I wouldn't want to face my end like that."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't want anyone there with me."

"People make mistakes," Peppy said, "Sometimes they make the worst mistakes of their lives. That's what Fox did when he left you. He got scared, because you got so close. And he's lost a lot of the people that he's been closest to. After you were gone, you know, the rest of us kind of drifted apart. He wondered around alone, too, and it was almost the end of him. But then he realized the importance of having people that you care about, and caring about them in return: so that they can catch you when you fall."

"Well I _don__'__t _care about Fox. I don't have _any _feelings for him anymore, I _don__'__t_. The same goes for all of you-"

"Krystal, please," Peppy said, reaching over to hold her hand.

"I _said _don't call me that," Kursed growled, her eyes hard as if daring him to touch her. She was squeezing the mug so hard it felt like it might shatter. Peppy drew his hand back with a pitying glance. He took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses slowly, then put them back on the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, alright," Peppy nodded sadly, sipping his tea. Kursed still hadn't drunk any of hers.

"But I do have a question for you. I want you to think really hard about it for me…" Peppy asked as he set his mug down and looked at her with knowing brown eyes, "Has anything that you've done as this new person, as Kursed…has any of it made your life _better_? Has it made you happy?"

Kursed choked out a small, scornful laugh, then cleared her throat with a painful frown.

"Happy?" she demanded hoarsely, "No, Peppy, it hasn't made me _happy_. I haven't been happy since Fox and you and everyone else cast me off and left me at the mercy of the Lylat System. Come to think of it, my life hasn't been much better since the day I watched my world and everyone on it _die_, all around me."

Peppy's ears drooped and he looked at her with his lips turned downwards, and for some reason this made Kursed even angrier.

"Do you think I _wanted _it like this? Do you think this is the person I wanted to be? It isn't. I didn't do this by choice. This is what I had to become, to _survive_ without all of you. To forget all of you. Would you like to know the truth? It's something I've tried to deny, but there's really no use any more: I don't _want _to be this person. I just want to be Krystal again, Peppy. I just want to go home…" the vixen admitted quietly, her voice breaking as she looked down into her tea. Peppy wanted to go around the table and embrace her, tell her it was going to be all right, but when the azure female looked back up her eyes were empty and hollow aside from grim resignation.

"But there's no home left anymore," Kursed concluded, her voice heavy, "There's not much left of Krystal, either."

Kursed looked down into her untouched tea, then looked back up at Peppy briefly before she turned in her chair and faced the empty blackness of space once again. His mouth screwed into a sad grimace, Peppy leaned over the table to touch her, to encourage her to face him again and keep talking, but the vixen seemed to sense his hand.

"I'd like you to leave now, Peppy," Kursed whispered, "I want to be alone now."

Peppy saw her staring intently at the viewport; she seemed more interested in her reflection in the transparent metal than the stars beyond it, as if she was looking for something. He slowly began to move around the table to sit next to her. Her words stopped him just as he was turning the nearest chair.

"Leave," she said firmly, "Please. Just leave me alone."

Peppy stepped away quietly and put his mug in the sink, making his way towards the door. He looked back only once, then slid open the door and left.

Kursed continued to stare at her reflection in the viewport, trying to find something that she could identify and hold on to. Thoughts swirled through her head and there was no one to talk to, no one to trust, and there never would be.

Above all else, she would not let herself cry again. She would not let _anyone _see that she'd been hurt. She would not cry.

She would not cry.

* * *

The buzzing of banter and the droning sound of movement throughout the saloon made it seem as though no one in the whole place knew or cared about what was happening on the band stand. The chameleon in the purple v-neck shirt looked out apprehensively at the bar full of indifferent patrons, tuning his electric bass guitar as a female primate with dread locks wearing a yellow halter top sat down at a storm cloud gray and crimson drum set with the words "Eric and the North Men" printed on the round bass drum. An athletic male enhydra holding a blue electric guitar polished so well it sparkled directed a thin chrome robot over to a keyboard, then took a step backstage as a meaty gray bulldog named Eric wearing a denim jacket strode across the band stand and went up to the microphone. The bulldog cracked his neck and looked out at the bar with a bold sneer. The reptilian, otter and primate all checked their instruments, giving Eric thumbs-up, and the bulldog nodded his head towards the amphibian at the doorway near the bandstand. With the flip of a few switches, the bar's sound system began to whine with feedback as lights from above shined down on Eric and the North Men, and the bulldog pulled the microphone close and sneered, "_I__ wanna __do __bad __things __with __you._"

The primate on drums began to strike out a rhythm as the otter's guitar began a dark, snarling riff and the chameleon kept the beat on bass, and the activity in the bar began to slow with more and more eyes on the band stand, but by this time Eric didn't care who was listening. Now it was just him and the music, his voice crooning deeply, "_When__ you __came __in, __the __air __went __out. __And __every __shadow, __filled __up__ with __doubt__…__ I __don__'__t __know__ who __you __think __you __are, __but __before __the __night __is __through__…__ I __wanna __do __bad __things __with __you__…_"

The beat began to pick up and Eric kept growling out the lyrics as the rhythm within the Rango Saloon changed, some patrons enthralled with their attention completely on the band stand, others merely letting the sultry energy of the song drive their activities. The Rango Saloon was one of the most well-known bars in all of Tombstone, Katina, originally starting out as a nameless dive for outlaws and bandits in the planet's serious frontier days, now a more legitimate establishment that traded in on a seedy reputation and endless tall tales. It had been named the Rango Saloon in honor of a crafty reptilian gunslinger that once prowled the arid plains of Katina in the wild days of old, Rango merely being the most common nickname for the nameless rogue. The saloon was filled to the brim with various mementos of Katina and its history, with various old laser pistols mounted up on the walls near the ceiling alongside bison heads and the stuffed bodies of sand hawks and sorona lizards. The bar itself was made of polished red sandstone from the Angel Eye Plateau, while all of the bar stools and seats in the saloon were upholstered in the dried skins of diamondback rattlesnakes. Almost as if to ward off the wondering spirit of any outlaw from eons past, a pair of rattlesnake skeletons were mounted over every doorway of the saloon, forming a vaguely sideways number eight as the dead vipers consumed each other.

Amid the flow of activity as barmaids and serving droids poured drinks only for thirsty patrons to pour them down their throats, all to the music of Eric and the North Men, two soldiers for the Cornerian Army Starfleet sat at a bar table with two recent additions to the University of Tombstone's science faculty. Aside from the drinks being nursed by each of the four patrons, the center of the table was devoted to a pile of drained beer bottles and crushed plastic cups that the group had already discarded. Out of the four people sitting at the table, three of them were very attractive females, and it was for this reason that Lieutenant Colonel Bill Grey, the only male, thought himself the luckiest sonofabitch in the entire bar.  
Sitting back in his seat, wearing baggy camouflage pants and a tight army green tee shirt that showed off his biceps, Bill grinned at the cream-furred, green-eyed female leporid sitting across from him as she set down a stainless steel stein full of beer and pushed rimless glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Lucy Hare (or _Doctor_ Lucy Hare, as she preferred when she wanted to sound like the most educated person in the room) caught Bill's gaze and smiled, leering at him coyly as she probed, "And what are _you _looking at?"

"I've got to _decide_?" Bill smirked, eyeing Lucy up and down, "There's _so_ much to look at that I like."

Lucy had grown up as the smartest person Bill had ever known, finishing school with a PhD in Astrophysics by the time she was twenty five and working at the Scientific Institute on Fichina by twenty six, but the glasses were the only thing that might've given someone the slightest hint in her current attire. The female rabbit wore a loose-fitting pink tank top and a pair of khaki hot pants that showed off her long, toned legs, with a pair of leather flip-flops covered in dust. She had tied her ears together and brushed them behind the back of her head, wearing them down like a ponytail. Bill often forgot that Lucy was a full three years older than him at thirty two and her career required very little physical activity; her body looked like it hadn't changed since age twenty one. She explained her physical fitness as the result of years of down time at the institute, and her clothes as a way to embrace the fact that she could finally walk outside without a thick parka to ward off icy winds, but the glimmer in her eyes told Bill that Lucy cared more about appearances than she cared to admit.

It made him wonder how he'd ever gotten so lucky, when Bill had never met another girl like her in his life.

Lucy licked the edge of her teeth, sitting back in her chair and purposefully crossing her legs. Bill winked at her and she smiled deviously.

"Ewww. Get a room, both of you," Nena Flowers teased snidely, flicking over an empty bottle of Schultz Light beer, watching it roll to join the pile of dead soldiers in the center of the bar table.

Lucy had convinced Nena, an evolutionary biologist and a fellow colleague at the institute to join her move to Katina, and she hadn't needed much convincing. She was a canine with a short snout and perky, short ears, with raincloud-colored fur spotted with several tiny freckles of darker gray. She wore a bright green sleeveless hooded sweatshirt and had her short hair cut in a bob that curled around her ears and forehead, more than a few strands brushing down by her deep amythyst-colored eyes.

"Oh, come on, Nena," Lucy smirked, "You were never shy when it came to public displays of affection, from what I saw when we went to Kragg Station."

"Different place, different sitch, Luce," Nena replied, looking around at the taxidermy animals and old firearms mounted on the walls critically, "This isn't really a place I'd want to hook up in."

"You don't like the place?" Bill inquired, sitting forward with a sideways look. The Rango was a favorite hangout spot for soldiers stationed at Fort Eastwood, including him. He'd taken Lucy and Nena out all over Tombstone the past few days, hoping to show them how fun the relatively small city could be, and the comment made him nervous.

"It's just a little _cheesy_, don't you think?" Nena indicated with a raised eyebrow, pointing at the rattlesnake rattles lining the rim of the bar table.

"Sometimes cheesy isn't that bad," Bill shrugged, pointing a thumb towards the band stand, "Music's pretty good, too."

"Ehh, music's okay," Nena conceded, rolling her lavender eyes as the enhydra guitarist onstage broke out into a gritty solo.

Bill heard a shuffling behind him and a tawny-furred female leporid in a short-sleeved white blouse and denim capri pants slid into the empty seat next to him.

"Alright, so I didn't want to wait in line for the female's refresher, and I used the male's instead. _Bad__ idea_," the rabbit shuddered as she scooted her chair into the table.

"Don't go into the forbidden zone unless you're prepared to see things you can't _un_-see," Bill chuckled lightly, "I didn't even notice you were gone, Zippa."

"Guess I'm just fast like that, Lieutenant Colonel," Major Kylie 'Zippa' Rayes replied with a grin. Zippa had been flying with Bill since the Lylat War, and had replaced him as commander of Bulldog and Husky squadrons when he was promoted to commander of the air group.

"We're off duty and off base, Zippa, come on. It's just Bill right now," Bill encouraged her, taking a swig from the bottle of Luath Draft in front of him, "Don't make me feel on duty all twenty-seven hours a day."

"Protocol, _Bill_," Zippa shrugged, "You've gotta give me permission each time."

"Some people believe in an _off_switch for the chain of command," Bill returned glibly.

"There's a few tight-ass CO's that disagree. Just keeping an eye out for them," Zippa came back.

Bill shook his head lightly and sat back in his chair, examining Lucy's thighs through the blurry glass of his bottle as Nena grabbed a menu from a passing serving droid and looked it over.

"Good as the music is, what do you say we get some food and then hop over to another place, with a different vibe?" the canine requested, her nose in the cheaply laminated fold-out menu.

"What are you thinking about getting?" Lucy investigated, looking over Nena's shoulder at the menu items, "Depending on what it is, could we share it? I need something to soak up all the booze he keeps feeding me."

"Mehhh, I don't know," Nena sighed, "Nothing on here looks all that inspiring."

"What kind of place do you want to go instead? What vibes are you looking for?" Bill inquired, draining his Luath Draft and belching lightly before rolling the empty bottle into the pile at the table's center.

Nena looked up from the menu, her eyebrow raised slyly.

"Mmm, I don't know…" she trailed off with a smirk, "Are there any good lezzie bars around here?"

Bill laughed a bit, then realized she was completely serious.

"Umm, I think there's Cowgirls…" Bill mused loudly over the music, "I'm trying to remember where it is, though."

"Oh my God, the only lesbian bar in Tombstone can_not_ be called Cowgirls," Nena moaned, throwing her head back dramatically.

"It's not the only one, it's just the _closest_," Zippa remarked, "It's up on, uhh… Wayne Street and Eighth Avenue. They've got a pretty good power hour coming up in about forty five minutes or so."

"They _do_, do they?" Nena probed with rapt interest, her head snapping forward and her purple eyes running over Zippa as if seeing her for the first time.

Zippa nodded with a nervous smile, then turned away to hide her blushing cheeks. Nena smirked devilishly, the gears turning behind her sparkling eyes as she leaned back pleasantly into her chair.

"Alright, if we're going to go, we should do something to close out our night at the Rango," Bill announced, catching himself slurring his words once or twice.

"Like _what_, soldier boy?" Lucy interrogated with a playful haughtiness.

"Bar bet," he replied with a dramatic twitch of his eyebrows.

"Between all of us?" Zippa inquired.

"Between me and the lady!" Bill announced, gesturing enthusiastically at Lucy.

Lucy smirked and drained her stein of beer, slamming it down on the table and leaning forward with a coy sheen in her emerald eyes as she replied, "Don't start something you can't finish. What's the bet?"

"You both order the stiffest drink in this dive and we see who can chug it fastest," Nena proposed, "_Then_ we'll see who's the lady, Bill."

"You read my mind," he growled with a smile.

"So, what happens if you win?" Lucy asked.

"I want a lapdance," Bill answered immediately. As Zippa began to laugh, Lucy's eyes narrowed critically and she put both hands flat on the bar table.

"You…you're trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, aren't you, you bad puppy?" Lucy interrogated with mock disgust.

"Yeah, that's the idea," Bill shrugged with a smirk, "I wanna get you drunk and then I want a lapdance in front of everyone in this bar. And you'll do it…unless you're chicken-shit."

"But that's if _you_ win, what about when _I_ win?"

"I dunno, what do you want?"

Lucy looked around the bar, then exchanged looks with Nena and chuckled mischievously, staring back at Bill with a wry openmouthed grin.

"I want you to get on top of that bar over there and I want you to do a _striptease _in front of everyone in this place," Lucy declared, beckoning over to the polished sandstone bar at the other end of the room.

"How much do I have to take off?" Bill inquired.

"All the way down to your _boxers_, and more if I feel like teaching you a lesson," she returned heatedly, "And you'll do it unless _you__'__re_ chicken-shit."

Bill nodded, licking his muzzle in thought. Zippa appeared vaguely amused, but Nena was sporting an energetic, enraptured smirk.

"I'll take that bet," Bill accepted, waving over the nearest server droid.

"Better loosen that belt," Lucy advised.

"Better brush off those dance moves," Bill returned as a gold-colored server droid with blue photoreceptors approached the table.

"**How ****may ****I**** help ****you, ****sir?**," the droid inquired cordially.

"What is the strongest specialty drink you guys make here?" Bill investigated.

"**The**** Mind ****Eraser, ****sir. ****It ****contains ****vodka, ****gin, ****tequila, ****rum, ****orange ****liqueur, ****and ****a**** splash ****of ****Spastic ****Cola. ****It ****is ****the**** highest-proof ****drink ****on ****our ****menu**," the server responded.

"Two Mind Erasers," Bill instructed, and the droid nodded and ventured off to the bar. Lucy leaned forward, sliding her glasses down the bridge of her nose and resting a hand on the pile of empty bottles in the center of the table. Bill's tail began to wag.

"Do you know how smart I am?" Lucy inquired innocently.

"How smart?" Bill asked. Lucy's smile intensified.

"I am _so_ smart, that I could get drunk practically every night in college and in graduate school, and I _still_ graduated at the top of my class," Lucy taunted, "Still think you're going to win this bet?"

"I will resign my commission the day a soldier gets out-drinked by a _scientist_," Bill replied.

"The proper word is out-_drunk_, Billy-boy. You're lucky you're cute," Lucy returned slyly, "And be careful what you promise."

The server droid returned and set down a pair of identical looking amber-colored drinks, and Bill slid his credit chip through the charge slot on the server droid's chest before waving it away and passing a drink to Lucy.

"Okay, on your mark…get set…" Bill trailed off.

"Lu—cy, Lu—cy, Lu—cy!" Both Nena and Zippa cheered in unison.

"Who's team are you _on_?" Bill demanded with an outraged look towards Zippa, and she cackled leaning backwards into her seat.

"Just _go_ already!" Nena snapped.

Bill and Lucy slammed their glasses into their mouths, knocking their heads backwards and gulping down their Mind Erasers. Nena began to cheer them both on, and soon several surrounding tables were joining her in cries of "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

For a moment, Lucy had the lead, then Bill's brown eyes swelled and he opened his throat with a growl, the alcohol-laden cocktail rushing down his gullet as rivulets streamed down his jaw. Nena screamed for Lucy to catch up but it was too late, and Bill washed down the last of his Mind Eraser before smashing the glass down on the table, causing a small avalanche from the pile of bottles in the center. The canine let out a triumphant bark as several around applauded, and Lucy finished her drink, gasped and snapped, "Damn you!"

Bill only laughed and got up from his chair, flexed his biceps boastfully and roared, "LAPDANCE!"

As Lucy threw herself back into her seat in frustration, Bill felt a distinct buzzing near his waist, and he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his comlink. The small black device was vibrating insistently, the small screen displaying the text: **InterLink**** Holocom**** call ****from: ****Fox ****McCloud**. Bill looked around for a moment and spotted an alcove near the refreshers where he could plug his comlink into a pay projector, and set off across the hardwood floors, stumbling slightly in his drunkenness.

"Where are you going?" Lucy demanded, "I thought you wanted a lapdance!"

"Pick out a song, I'll be right back," Bill called back over the music of Eric and the North Men, feeling his head swimming as he made his way towards the alcove. The Mind Eraser was beginning to live up to its name.

Bill giggled to himself as his comlink buzzed in his paw, and he found the large dish-shaped holoprojector sunken into the floor of the alcove, swiping his credit chip through the slot to activate it before plugging his comlink in and pressing the button to answer the call.

The projector dish lit up and the air above it shimmered for a bit, before the ghostly image of Fox McCloud appeared before him with a faint suggestion of a smile on his face.

"Hey, Bill," Fox greeted softly.

"Hey buddy, good to hear from ya," Bill mumbled, trying to compose himself, "How's everything going with the team and that assignment you guys are on?"

Fox looked down with a furrowed brow, exhaling quietly.

"It's a…long story, Bill," Fox answered, "Really long."

"Everything alright?" the canine probed, leaning against the wall and noticing a small synthflesh bandage around one of Fox's ears as well as around a section of his tail, "Looks like you've been seeing some mean action."

"Part of that long story," Fox replied.

"Okay," Bill grunted, "What's up?"

"I wanted to ask you about something…there's a lot on my mind, lately," Fox answered, scratching the back of his head, "Back at the commissioning ceremony for the _James__ McCloud_, when we saw each other and you were with Lucy..."

Bill's ears perked up and his tail grew somewhat stiff.

"Peppy's not listening to this, is he?" Bill inquired with a touch of fear.

"No," Fox shook his head with a smile, "No, it's just you and me."

"Well, what about it?"

"You guys are…you're seeing each other, right?"  
"Uh…yeah."

Fox chuckled slightly, cocking his head to the side.

"You seem so unsure," he remarked.

"It's kind of complicated," Bill said slowly.

"How long has it been going on?"

"It's been kind of off and on for a while, actually. It sort of started when we met after the war. We started talking again. We would make dates to see each other when we could. We'd flirt, dance, that sort of stuff. Didn't really start getting serious until a year or so ago, when she talked about moving to Katina," Bill answered.

"What's complicated about it?" Fox investigated.

Bill looked down and sighed.

"So, we've got this great chemistry together, and we're hot for each other and everything, and when we're around people I know it's great. But when we're around most of her coworkers at the University or around Peppy, she wants to keep it a secret. I dunno. I can't tell if she's embarrassed because of the species thing or because I'm a soldier and she's a genius or what, but…I don't know where she's coming from. I don't know how long it's all going to last or where it's going to go."

Fox glanced down for a minute in thought.

"Do you love her?" the StarFox leader asked finally.

"Yeah," Bill smiled, "I'm pretty sure I love her, Fox."

"Then how do you deal with that? How do you love her, not knowing for sure if she loves you back, not knowing how long it's going to last? How do you deal with the chance that you might lose her?" Fox asked quietly.

Bill examined the hologram of his old friend. He wasn't sure that he'd ever seen Fox look so lost, at least since the day of James McCloud's memorial service.

"Fox, I've been doing this for a while. I've seen times change, wing-mates shot down and friends fade into the background," Bill told him, "Nothing's permanent. There isn't that much you can be sure of, either. You just have to take comfort in the things you know for sure. And instead of being afraid of losing someone, you've just gotta appreciate them more since you never know when you'll lose them. The fact that it's not permanent is what makes it precious."

Fox nodded slowly, his green eyes gazing distantly away from Bill.

"Are you okay?" Bill asked, feeling remarkably sober.

"Yeah," Fox replied hoarsely, "I will be. Tell you what: When all this is over, we'll hang out on Katina and I'll tell you the whole story. By then, I'll know the ending."

"I'll hold you to it," Bill stated.

Fox breathed deeply, his eyes still looking off in thought. When he looked back at Bill, he seemed to at least have some idea of where to go.

"Thanks for the talk, Bill," Fox breathed.

"No problem, buddy," Bill returned, "Stay safe out there."

"Wilco."

Fox's hologram flickered, then disappeared, the holoprojector dish growing dark. Bill humphed, disconnected his comlink, and made his way back to the bar table. The Mind Eraser seemed to come back in full force as he threw himself down into his chair and scooted it away from the bar table.

"Everything alright?" Lucy inquired, the teasing and sexy glances replaced by a slight amount of genuine concern.

"Totally. Better than alright," Bill smirked, looking her over, "Now put on your lapdance song and get that fine cottontail ass over here."

* * *

The smell of the _Lone__ Wolf_'s workshop, where Wolf tinkered with technical components and drew concepts of devices to create whenever StarWolf got the extra money, was always thick with battery acid, oil, and burnt electronic components. It never failed to wake him up and keep him alert. At that moment, the smell of the workshop reminded him of his father. Whenever Hank O'Donnell wasn't getting drunk or loudly humping Wolf's mother, he was usually working on the multitude of equipment that the family's sheep and moisture farm depended on. He'd taught Wolf the basics of electronics and engineering, enough for Wolf to cultivate it into a useful talent by the time he was a teenager. Wolf supposed that his father would be disappointed to know that he was using his skills to make weapons and bombs instead of something more useful. He'd never thought or cared about it before, but now for some reason it loomed the biggest thing on his mind as IG-N 96 lay strapped to the work bench, the twisted metal stump of his right ankle suspended in a vice as a new robotic foot rested on a table with various tools scattered everywhere.

As Wolf silently picked up a hydrospanner and an arc wrench and examined the place where he'd shot off IG's foot, the droid silently looked up from the bench with his yellow photoreceptors.

"**Inquiry:**** My**** Lord****…**** may ****I ****speak?**" the android queried softly. He always took care to be especially polite when Wolf was working on him, and it was very possible that he was being even more so than usual given the circumstances that brought him to the workshop in the first place.

"Say what ya wanna say, IG," Wolf muttered, his implant magnifying a screw on IG's leg that had been welded in place by the heat of the plasma shot.

"**Clarification:**** I ****was ****under ****the ****impression ****that ****you ****disliked ****your ****father, ****indeed**** most ****of ****your ****family, ****and**** that ****they ****disliked**** you ****since ****you ****joined ****the ****Venomian ****Army**," IG remarked delicately.

"Yeah, that's about right," Wolf grunted, digging the bit of the hydrospanner into the screw head and trying to jiggle it free to no avail.

"**I****'****ve**** also ****thought ****of ****you ****always ****as**** a ****rather ****unsentimental, ****or ****for ****lack ****of ****a**** better ****word, ****insensitive ****being, ****especially ****when ****it ****comes ****to**** matters ****of ****life ****and**** death**," IG continued.

"…I dunno," Wolf shrugged, "I guess I won't disagree with 'ya, if that's what 'ya wanna think."

"**Then ****in ****that ****case, ****my ****most ****harsh ****and ****imperious ****master, ****please ****do**** me ****the ****courtesy ****of ****explaining ****why ****you ****found ****it ****necessary**** to ****BLOW**** OFF ****MY**** FOOT!**"

"Cause ya' pissed me off, IG, that's why."

"**I**** fail ****to ****understand ****what ****offense ****I**** committed ****to ****warrant ****such ****a**** response**," IG argued, incensed.

"I just found out my Daddy died an' you thought it'd be a good time ta' joke about it. What's not ta' understand?" Wolf replied, glaring at the android like he would a stupid child.

"**But ****you **_**detest **_**your ****father. ****From ****what ****I**** recall, ****he ****was ****a**** drunkard, ****crass ****farmer ****that ****beat ****you**," IG stated.

"Where'd you learn that?" Wolf growled.

"**On**** occasions, ****Comrade ****Powalski ****talks ****and**** responds ****to**** questions ****in ****his ****sleep. ****Typically ****after ****he****'****s**** dismembered ****something**."

"Then he should've told ya' he only beat me whenever I tore up or killed one 'a my brothers," Wolf grumbled, trying to go back to work.

"**Technicalities**** aside, ****you ****and ****your ****father ****clearly ****were ****not ****close. ****Explain ****to ****me ****why ****a**** light ****jest ****warrants ****getting**** shot, ****if ****you ****please, ****my**** Lord**."

"Cause it don't fuckin' matter if he was a piece a' shit an' I hated him, he was still my goddamn Dad. _You_ don't get ta' joke about it," Wolf snarled.

"**Consider**** the ****point ****taken, ****my ****Lord. ****I**** apologize**," IG nodded in a servile manner.

"Is it even _possible_ for an android ta' feel regret?" Wolf muttered, turning his attention back to the robot's leg.

"**It**** is ****if ****it ****compels ****you ****to ****repair ****me **_**faster**_."

"Fuck off, I'm workin' on it," Wolf growled.

"**Then ****you ****should ****start ****by ****releasing**** the ****still-intact ****servo-couplings ****for ****the ****foot ****you ****shot ****off. ****They**** are ****inside**** a ****section**** of ****the ****housing ****labeled**** with ****serial ****part ****number ****3145**."

Wolf probed the depths of the droid's housing through the stump with his hydrospanner, prodding various scorched wires and melted metal, trying to identify the part using the schematics display in his implant.

"**That****'****s ****not ****it, ****my**** Lord. ****That**** is ****not ****it, ****either. ****And**** that ****is ****a**** hinge, ****Lord ****O****'****Donnell**," IG remarked periodically.

Wolf glared daggers up at IG's face.

"**Would**** you ****like ****to ****read ****the ****AK-220 ****Automaton ****User ****Manual? ****I ****have**** it ****in ****my**** limited ****databanks ****for ****your ****reference**," the robot offered cordially.

The StarWolf leader scowled and walked around the bench to IG's head.

"**My ****Lord?**" IG queried tentatively as Wolf cradled his skull, then with panic, "**Hey**** hey, ****that****'****s ****my**_** brain-**_"

The droid let out a growling squeak as Wolf flipped the external power switch in IG's neck, his yellow photoreceptors going dark as his head went limp. Wolf returned to his work in blessed silence. Barely five minutes passed before the soft padding of footsteps reached Wolf's ears from the corridor outside, and he looked up to see Leon poke his green-scaled face slowly through the doorway. Wolf exhaled and rolled his eye as Leon slinked into the room and leaned against a work bench with his arms crossed over his chest, a question in his pale yellow eyes as Wolf tinkered with the robot's foot. He knew what Leon wanted to talk about. Wolf didn't see how it was any of the lizard's business.

"So…did Jess' message say how Hank died?" Leon inquired softly.

"Nah," Wolf grunted, "Heart attack, probably. He never did take much care of himself."

"When's the funeral?"

"Next week. Knowin' Larayne, she won't want me there. Hell, knowin' _everyone_, they won't want me there."

"But you're still going?"

Wolf didn't answer, returning his attention back to IG's leg. He gazed inside the housing and finally found the part labeled 3145, pressing the hydrospanner to the coupling and unscrewing the release with a light, mechanical pop.

"Wolf, talk to me. What's going on? It's obvious this has affected you. I can tell it surprises you, at least."

Wolf let out a gruff sigh, his jaw tightening. He looked over at Leon, a reptilian eye ridge upturned in clinical curiosity gazing down at Wolf.

"I've been thinkin' some things, lately," Wolf began hoarsely, "It started after the assignment on Aquas. What we did ta' that kid…"

"What kid?" Leon demanded, "Rhinebeck's? That rabbit boy? You're still thinking about that?"

"Yeah," Wolf replied, looking down, "I'm still thinkin' about it."

"Why do you _care_?" Leon inquired, his yellow eyes growing large, "After all we've done and all this time, we kill some kid's parents and you just start feeling guilty?"

"I didn't say it made any sense, I'm just sayin' that's what's goin on," Wolf retorted hotly, "No matter what, it just keeps comin' back ta' me. Then this happens. And suddenly, I'm lookin' back on all we've done, and I'm startin' to wonder…what's it all for in tha' long run?"

Leon's green face grew a shade paler, his jaw loose in genuine astonishment.

"Wolf," he said carefully, "Don't tell me you're getting a conscience _now_, after all these years. I thought the whole point is that we don't _care_ what it's for. Who cares what the rest of Lylat thinks? We're living for ourselves and doing whatever we want."

"Is that what we wanted when we started this? We wanted ta' be free. We wanted power an' fame an' glory. Do we have any a' that?"

"It doesn't matter, we don't _need_ it. All we need is…" Leon trailed off, bewildered.

Wolf stared at Leon with an iron glance.

"I'm not sayin' I regret it all or that I'm givin' this up. I'm just thinkin'…if I die tomorrow, what am I leavin' behind? How's history gonna remember me? I'll be a thug. A killer. A traitor. The only thing I can hold on to is fightin' with McCloud. That's not gonna last forever, either I kill him or he kills me. But what if we don't? What happens then? What do we do when we're too old for this, Leon?"

Leon seemed dumbfounded by the question.

"I guess what I mean is…" Wolf murmured, "Is this tha' person I wanna be for the rest of my life? Is this what I'm supposed ta' do with it?"

The reptile's shoulders heaved up and down softly, and he turned his head from side to side. He seemed completely alarmed and unprepared for what Wolf had told him.

Wolf sniffed and smiled distantly.

"Tha' bitch of it is, I'm pretty sure it's too late ta' do anything else. So I guess I better hope McCloud kills me before too long. Otherwise, I'm just gonna be left alone with a bunch a' questions."

"Wolf…" Leon trailed off, a dismayed expression still on his face, "I don't know what to say."

"There's nothin' to say," Wolf breathed, "It's my own problem. It doesn't change nothin'. We're still goin' after 'em. We're still gonna take tha' ship from them. I don't know what else we _can_ do."

Leon just stared at him for the next few moments, an open-mouthed frown on his face like a lost child. Wolf regretted telling him anything. He didn't want to look weak in front of Leon. He still didn't feel like he'd truly done justice to what was going through his head; it was too subtle and beneath the surface to properly put into words. He knew that he still wanted to fight McCloud. That still felt right.

He wasn't so sure about anything else, though. He'd felt so assured, years ago, but the fact was that he just wasn't _angry_ all the time like he once was. And he wasn't used to that.

After a few more moments of silence, he dismissed Leon from the room and tried to go back to work on repairing IG. He hoped that, if he focused enough on his work, the weight of the troubling questions would leave him.

They didn't.

* * *

The walk down the D Deck corridor felt abnormally long to Fox, as if his shoes were made of durasteel. The talks with Falco and Bill had given him much to think about, especially when it came to just how important it might be to settle things with Krystal. It wasn't just that it might save his sanity to do so. He really wanted to make things right, repair the damage he'd done to Krystal and save her from herself, like Falco had done for him on Temple. According to Peppy, it was going to be an uphill battle. He honestly didn't know what to expect.

Fox came to the door of the galley and slid it open slowly, an acrid and woody odor flowing out of the kitchen area. Krystal sat on a high stool at the table, gazing out at the stars, a lit kretek burning a trail of smoke up towards the ceiling. Before the lit end of the cigarette was a limp grey tube of ash, as if she'd just let it burn between her fingertips without ever taking a drag.

She didn't look at him as he walked quietly into the room, staring out through the viewport as if she couldn't hear or see him at all. He stood there waiting for her to respond in some way, but she continued to pretend that he didn't exist, sitting cold and still in her seat.

"You…really shouldn't smoke on board," Fox said quietly, the first thing that came to mind, "Oxygen-rich environment and everything."

"Well thank the spirits they invented the whatever device, so that we could light up cancer sticks in deep space," she responded hollowly, glancing towards him out of the corner of her eye as the kretek continued to burn.

Fox tried to smile, but he wasn't sure if she was trying to be sarcastic or merely dismissive. There was another awkward moment, and she soon shifted her attention back to the cold darkness of space outside.

"I wanted to…talk to you, Krystal, maybe get things on a better note than they were up on the bridge," Fox began, moving slowly to take a seat at the table.

"How many times must I ask people to _stop _calling me that?" Krystal murmured wearily.

Fox paused for a moment, trying to gather his words, then began again, "…You deserved better than what you got from me. It doesn't matter that I was scared of losing you. It doesn't matter that I was too scared to admit how much I needed you. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us, but that doesn't matter either. The problem was I was too concerned about myself, and not enough about _you_."

Krystal was still facing outwards towards space, but her eyes were closed and her body was rigidly still.

"It's kind of funny…" Fox continued, "I've done a lot of things people say are impossible. They tell me I've saved Lylat and they call me a hero. But when it comes to people…just living with the ones I'm close to…I keep making mistakes. I always have. And leaving you like that was the worst mistake of all. When I left you, it destroyed a part of me. But it was worse for you. I know I've said it before and I know it probably doesn't mean much to you…but I am _sorry_. For everything that happened. And I want to make it better. You don't have to keep fighting, and you don't have to keep running. I know you don't need me to save you anymore. I am asking you, as someone that I care about a lot: let us show you that it's okay to have people you depend on. Let us show you that you can trust us."

Krystal slowly opened her eyes and breathed, staring tiredly out at the stars.

"Are you finished?" the vixen asked quietly.

Fox's heart sank and his tail went limp.

"It's the best I've got," he replied.

"I'm sure your best is better than most, as always," Krystal respired, a faint frown on her lips, "But I don't have anything to say to you."

Fox could feel a tight lump sinking down in his chest, and he sighed like it was his last breath.

"So what now?" he asked, "Are you going to leave? Should we drop you off at the nearest place you can get a transport?"

"Do you really think I would go to so much work arranging all of this and not see it through to the end?" Krystal said with quiet skepticism.

"So what after that? Where are you going to go?"

"Everywhere. Nowhere."

"And what about us?"

"There _is_ no us, Commander," Krystal whispered.

Fox looked down into the table and frowned, feeling empty inside. He'd failed. No matter what he said, there was no making it better. There was no going back. What other outcome could he expect? The Krystal he'd known just wasn't there anymore. In her place, there was only a shadow.

Fox got up from his chair and moved slowly to the door. Every moment he stayed, he only felt worse. He opened the door and stopped, looking back at her.

"For what it's worth…I really am so sorry," Fox said.

"I heard you the first time," Krystal replied, "It still changes nothing."

Fox breathed and walked heavily through the door.


	16. In The Air Tonight

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I present to you readers a late Christmas present, the next chapter of our dark story. We're moving towards climax territory here, and I'm trying to set things up for some major resolution as the pieces fall into place, but as you'll notice I tried to insert some character moments that I hope you'll appreciate. I'm working hard on the chapters that come after this; my goal is to finish writing this story (maybe even finish publishing it) by January 15th, two years to the day after I first posted this story. Let's see how that goes. The title of this chapter was taken from the song made famous by Phil Collins, since I feel it matches the tone I was trying to go for in this chapter. As always, please leave me a review and share your thoughts and feelings on where things are going. It's been a great ride through a cold night, but there's still plenty of surprises up ahead, so strap in kiddies and enjoy. -TU

* * *

**-In The Air Tonight-**

"So, she's paranoid?"

"Not at all," Peppy answered, cleaning his glasses on his coat sleeve, "Just imagine what a female _wolf_ would have to do to be made leader of the biggest spy network Lylat. It's in Gillian Morrow's best interest to see enemies everywhere; the more threats she sees, the more power they give her."

"You didn't mention we'd be _working_ for someone like this when we signed on, Peppy," Fox sighed, leaning against the holographic map table in the war room.

"Now, I _told _you I had some concerns..."

"When? When did you tell us the client was going to manipulate us?" Fox demanded with irritation, trying not to look down the table where Krystal sat quietly with her arms crossed.

"I told you I didn't get along with Gillian Morrow, that she was part of the reason I resigned as General," Peppy shrugged.

"That's pretty far from warning us not to trust her."

Peppy threw up his hands, shaking his grey-furred head, "I don't know, I figured that we could still trust Frost and the rest of the CSB, that maybe this whole thing was as good as it sounded. We were all kind of blinded by the money, and things came up soon enough to...distract us, I guess."

Peppy, Slippy and Falco all joined Fox in trying not to single out Krystal, but their silence spoke volumes. After she'd rebuffed him in the galley, Fox had tried to switch himself over to professional mode. There was still a job to tend to, even if Fox couldn't mend the personal issues between himself and her. It was almost a relief to know that there was some level of closure, at least an understanding between them, however flawed. He tried not to think about what it meant if Falco was right, and the only way to stop his flashbacks were to make things right with Krystal. To her credit, where Krystal had formerly dished out snide condescension at any opportunity, she was now stoically quiet, staring hollowly at the floor and offering only brief answers whenever she was spoken to.

"Should we expect any more interference from the CSB?" Fox inquired, keeping his mind on the task.

Peppy exhaled and leaned back in his chair, his brown eyes gazing up at the glowlamps dangling from the ceiling.

"At this point, we're doing exactly what they want: securing the _Xerxes _for them. I don't see why they'd pull something that would get in the way of that," Peppy submitted, "On the other hand... has any leg of this mission been what we've expected?"

The silence that Peppy's words cast over the room was unsettling.

"Let's focus on what we _do _know, then," Fox replied tiredly, sitting down in a chair at the map table, "Slippy?"

Slippy Toad lurched forward in his seat at the middle of the table, stetting down a data card and two holodiscs, one metallic gray and one dull bronze.

"I've spent the past few hours decoding the holodiscs we got from Bowman and Zaius. As we know, Zaius' disc works like the map, telling us where the ship is, and Bowman's disc is kind of like a key that lets us board the ship. They work off this weird encryption where they need to be scanned at the same time in the same process to extract all of the data.," Slippy explained, his bulbous blue eyes shifting from person to person in the room as he talked, sheepishly averting his gaze when he reached Krystal, "Once I figured that out and scanned them both through the computer, here's what I got."

Slippy picked up the data card from the table and fed it into a slot. The map display at the center of the table glowed white, and a holographic star map rose into the air. The display showed a large, orange cloud in the shape of a letter Z, with a curving tail that stretched off into space. A green dot within the curve of the tail, nestled in a crease of the Z, began to blink as the hologram stabilized.

"Here's our final destination, guys," Slippy informed them, "The _Xerxes _is at this point in Sector Z, about half a light year from the outer limits of the Papetoon Sub-System. ROB has the _Great Fox _on a course at maximum warp to this point, we should reach it in another twelve hours. Its just open space, but it's really tucked into the nebula's magnetic field. The range of our sensors are going to be cut pretty bad in there."

"Great, so it's prime real estate for an ambush," Falco grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"That's not the biggest problem," Slippy replied, a grimace twisting his enormous mouth. Falco sighed and leaned back in his chair as the star map was replaced with a hologram of the VNS _Xerxes _itself, floating over everyone's heads.

"When we use the code to disarm the ship and allow us to board, it disables the auto-pilot program that's been running the _Xerxes _for the past six years or so," Slippy explained, "The ship's computer network will shut down and go into safe-mode, meaning that just about everything aside from artificial gravity and basic functions will be offline. If we want to control the ship, we need to reactivate these systems."

* * *

"What are we gonna need ta' reactivate?" Wolf inspected, leaning back in his chair. Planning StarWolf's next move had only muffled the whispering thoughts and self-doubt swirling around his mind in the wake of Hank O'Donnell's death, not silenced them. Whenever he caught Leon throwing him a scrutinizing glance, Wolf would bare his teeth and narrow his eye in a concentrated glare warning the reptilian to back off. He hadn't told any of his teammates that his father's death was now an off-limits subject, they seemed to have gotten the message shortly after IG walked out of the workshop with a new foot. He would _not _let this setback distract him, no matter how troubling.

"**Understand, this is mere speculation, my Lord**," IG remarked, his metal hands raised in deference as he paced among the work-stations on the bridge, the swirling light patterns of warp speed churning through the _Lone Wolf_'s main viewport. The droid was taking an inordinate amount of care to show respect towards Wolf. He seemed determined to avoid another dismemberment.

"**From what I know about the **_**Xerxes**_**, three systems are vital in restoring the ship to working order: The shield array and life support controls, located in the mid thoracic section of the ship, underneath the missile pods; the propulsion system, including both sublight and warp-drives, located in the stern; and the central computer network hub, located underneath the command tower of the ship, in the maintenance tunnels on the lowest levels**," IG explained, "**Once these systems, especially the network hub, are running, the rest of the ship's functions, including navigation and weapons grids, can be controlled from the command tower on top of the **_**Xerxes**_**.**"

"But none of these sound close to the command tower," Leon remarked.

"C**orrect, Comrade Powalski**," the droid conceded, "**However, a turbolift in the maintenance tunnels near the network hub allows direct access to the command tower. The individual responsible for rebooting the network should proceed to this turbolift immediately after doing so, in order to secure control of the ship.**"

"What about the money?" Panther inquired, "How do we get to that?"

* * *

"Without the computer network running, we can't access the electronic vaults," Slippy answered, looking over at Falco, "Once someone reboots the hub, they can take the turbolift up from the tunnels to the bridge, and access the vaults on the network. With the network rebooted, we shouldn't even need a password to get into the vaults, so we can start transferring the Liat once we have the bridge."

"I'll take the hub," Fox said, staring at the hologram of the Venomian warship, "Falco can take the propulsion systems. Krys—_Kursed_ can take the shield array and life support."

He looked down the table and locked on to her sharp, aqua colored eyes. The vixen's only response was a soft, silent nod before she broke contact and returned her focus to the hologram floating over the map table.

"What about me and Slip?" Peppy inquired.

"We're going to be spending a lot of time on the _Xerxes_ before we have it secured. I don't want the whole team split up wandering this ship, that's just asking for trouble the way things have worked so far," Fox came back, thoughtfully pinching the pale fur covering his chin as he examined the ship's hologram, "We'll approach the ship with you, Slippy, and Krystal flying in the _Pleiades_, Falco and I running escort in Arwings. Where's the best hangar bay to use, Slip?"

"Just a minute," Slippy muttered, tapping a few touch-sensitive buttons displayed on the map table's surface. A moment later, the hologram of the _Xerxes _enlarged and an opening on the side of the long, needle-nosed bow section bristling with twin assault pulse-laser turrets began to glow green.

"It's an auxiliary hangar bay, but landing procedures should be a bit more straightforward than using the main hangar and it'll fit the _Pleiades _and two Arwings. It's also closer to the main corridors of the ship, so it should make Falco and Krystal's jobs easier," Slippy informed them. Fox nodded, his green eyes running over the hologram.

"We'll land in that hangar and make it our beachhead on the _Xerxes_ until we've secured the command tower," Fox explained, turning to face Peppy, "The three of us have our jobs. I can handle myself alone, so can Falco and Kursed. You and Slippy will be on backup. You'll defend the ships in the hangar bay and make sure that we always have some place to fall back to. You and Slippy will also be on the comlink with us, instructing us on how to reboot each of the ship's systems. You _can _tell us how to do that, can't you, Slip?"

Slippy leaned forward and hummed in the affirmative, the red and white cap perched between his eyes precariously wobbling as he nodded his green head.

"The discs don't give instructions on how to reboot the systems, I'm just going on what I know about Venomian starship design," Slippy mused, "Their ships' computer systems were always networked much more heavily than Cornerian ships; it made them more vulnerable to electronic countermeasures and susceptible to being hacked, but Venom tended to be less concerned about that and more worried about minimizing their crew-to-ship ratio and shortening the amount of time they'd need to train people for specialized duties. Since the _Xerxes _was designed for a time when Venom knew it wouldn't have a lot of personnel to crew it or a lot of time to train that crew, it's an, uh, reasonable inference to-"

"Hey Slip, you're losin' us. Wanna bring it back down ta' our level?" Falco interrupted with gruff boredom.

Slippy's eyes darkened and he lurched up in his seat, demanding hotly, "_Really_, Falco? Is it _really _that hard to understand? Are you even listening?"

"Nah, it's not that, ya' just gotta love that look ya get when you're goin' off on some technical schtick and ya' realize no one really knows or cares that much about what you're sayin," Falco shrugged, "And, ya know, I wasn't really listenin'."

Slippy's wide mouth pinched together and he looked up at the ceiling, telling himself something that he clearly couldn't say out loud.

"Falco, knock it off. Slippy, get to the point," Fox ordered, shutting the confrontation down.

He had to hand it to Falco: even after the emotional discussion they'd had, he was still outwardly as abrasive, cocky and aloof as ever. Their talk had eliminated a wall that had come up between them, however, sharing what they had allowed them to communicate and anticipate one and other's moves in a way that they hadn't been able to for a while. At the very least, it made Falco more inclined to follow his lead. Fox hoped it would last. An unspoken exchange passed between Fox's emerald green eyes and Falco's icy blues, and the avian shrugged, sat back and gestured for Slippy to continue.

Slippy sighed, then stated bluntly, "The computer systems were probably designed to minimize the amount of people you would need to crew the ship as much as possible. Meaning that they should be very straightforward and user-friendly. Even if they're not, I can probably talk you through rebooting the systems, if you need it."

"Good," Fox remarked, "Let's hope they're user-friendly enough for _Falco _to understand."

Slippy smirked and Falco skoffed, looking up at the ceiling. Peppy's thick whiskers bunched up as he smiled in response. At the end of the table, Krystal looked away from the _Xerxes_' hologram, as if finally acknowledging their existence.

She quietly asked in her sophisticated voice, "What about StarWolf?"

* * *

"**Thanks to the beacon you placed on StarFox's shuttle, we've been able to track their progress all the way to the **_**Xerxes**_**, even extrapolating the current location of the ship from the vector plot of **_**Great Fox**_**'s warp jump. The **_**Lone Wolf **_**should drop out of warp approximately ten minutes after the **_**Great Fox**_**, and inside the magnetic interference field of the Sector Z nebula. With a little luck, we will drop out of warp undetected by StarFox, and in prime position to catch them by surprise**," IG explained, gesturing to the holographic display showing the course of the _Great Fox _in green and the _Lone Wolf_ in red.

"So, what are we going to do about them?" Panther inspected, looking up at Wolf.

Wolf leaned forward, going over the scenario in his head, ignoring the momentary flashes of his father's voice or the face of the child he'd orphaned. All of the questions going through his head didn't matter, they _couldn't _matter right now. He was useless if he couldn't do his job. He noticed with dismay that IG, Leon and Panther were all looking to him with anticipation, and he'd taken too long to think before speaking.

"We catch 'em when they're weakest," Wolf growled, "If we show up and they're still in tha' _Great Fox_, its gonna be mother ship against mother ship an' who knows what'll happen. Can't remember the last time we used the _Lone Wolf_ for direct combat. But once they're on tha' ship, it's gonna be a race ta' secure it first. The weapons on the _Xerxes _can tear tha' _Lone Wolf _apart. So we wanna get there just as they're movin' from tha' _Great Fox _in their smaller ships. Catch 'em when we can use tha' Wolfens and maybe even tha _Lone Wolf _ta' _our_ advantage."

"**My Lord, I'm still unclear as to my role in this**," IG remarked, "**You have mentioned using the **_**Lone Wolf**_**, however I must point out a flaw in our plan: At current count, there are five of them, plus one robot, against three of us and myself. If all three of you board the **_**Xerxes**_**, there will be enough of you to reactivate the ship, however no one will remain to guard the Wolfens. If I were StarFox, I would use one of the two remaining team-mates to sabotage our ships after we leave them in the hangar bay**."

"I've got that covered," Wolf nodded, "If we catch them in tha' _Lone Wolf _just as they're headin' to the _Xerxes_, we've gotta be ready to launch any second in case they just make a run for it. Leon an' I will be on point in our Wolfens, ready to go in the hangar bay. You and Panther will be in _Fang One_."

"**Lord O'Donnell, I must point out that I cannot control this ship from the hangar bay. I still require a wired USC connection in order to operate the **_**Lone Wolf**_**, and the closest socket is in the auxiliary control center on D Deck**," the android critiqued, his servos whining slightly.

"Ya' never heard of an extension cord, IG?" Wolf smirked, picking up a thick coil of fiber optic cable from the metal floor near his seat.

Leon smiled and let out a sniffling, nasal whisper of a laugh, and IG nodded as Wolf dropped the cord to the floor.

"**That is feasible, my Lord. However, it will not work once the dropship leaves the hangar with me inside. The extension cord isn't **_**that **_**long**."

"What happens next depends on them," Wolf shrugged, "If StarFox keeps their robot on tha' _Great Fox_, IG's gonna stay onboard and we'll let 'em duke it out. If they take it with 'em, we'll need all the numbers we can get on tha' _Xerxes_. If _Great Fox _doesn't attack we'll know they've got the robot, and IG's gonna disconnect from the _Lone Wolf _an' fly in tha' dropship with Panther."

"Why _would _they take their robot?" Leon demanded, "That's just leaving their mother ship dead in space."

"**Clarification: Not precisely, Comrade Powalski**," IG answered, "**True, the ship would be mostly inactive, however certain, very basic functions can be executed by remote, with the proper program in place. For instance, they can use the ship as a comms hub, or slave their warp-drive to automatically jump if certain conditions are met. Both **_**Great Fox **_**and **_**Lone Wolf**_** were built with limited remote-control functions in mind. ****And, as we've clearly seen, StarFox has used ROB-64 in a combat role in the past**."

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot:" Panther piped up with a smile, twitching his black tail, "Wolf dropped a _building _on it, and he still couldn't kill the damn thing."

Wolf threw Panther a disgusted scowl, and the feline leaned back in his seat, brushing some dust off the sleeves of his purple and white space suit.

"**Query: In the event that StarFox **_**does **_**bring ROB-64, what duties will I perform on the **_**Xerxes**_**?**" IG inquired.

"You're gonna secure the ships in tha' hangar bay an' help coordinate us from _Fang One_," Wolf answered, "But once we've got an idea where all of 'em are, I want you runnin' interference. You were originally programmed as an assassin droid, right?"

The android's dark-metaled head tilted to the side in what would've been curiosity in an organic being, his photoreceptors glowing a shade of bright yellow as he brought up a fist.

"**It's been more than a decade since I've been used in that capacity, my Lord, however...**" IG trailed off, and suddenly a vibroblade over forty centimeters long extended from the android's right wrist with a lethal hiss of metal against metal. Leon audibly giggled with delight, his tail whipping through the air as Wolf smirked.

"**I may be able to dust off some of the old protocols**," IG concluded.

* * *

"We're going to need everyone we can get on this," Fox remarked, "We've had surprises everywhere on this assignment, there's no reason to expect that to change now. StarWolf might be there, and who knows what else Zaius and Andross left on that ship that could cause problems. I know its a risk, but I think ROB should be on the _Pleiades_, too. He can help Slippy interface with the _Xerxes_' systems, and I've seen him give Wolf a run for his money in the past, so he's useful for fire support."

"We'll have to be tricky with the _Great Fox_," Slippy mused, "I can pre-program it to make a small jump about a solar unit or so away in case it runs into trouble without ROB on the bridge. I can also make sure that it follows the _Xerxes_' tracking signal, so that it automatically warps to whatever coordinates that the ship warps to. It'll get there a lot slower, but at least it'll follow us."

"Are you sure about doing that? Without ROB, the _Great Fox _is left pretty exposed, and she's already taken a good dose of punishment," Peppy commented.

"Just imagine how exposed she'll be if someone uses that ship's weapons on her. Once we board the _Xerxes_, speed and our ability to hold parts of the ship are going to be _crucial_," Fox argued, "ROB can help us do that, and if something happens, you and Slippy take the _Pleiades _back to the _Great Fox _and we'll go from there. It's risky, but you can't win much without risks."

Peppy nodded, his nose twitching tentatively. Fox stood up from his chair and looked at all of them down the length of the table, feeling like he had to say something final.

"For a lot of reasons, this is probably the hardest single assignment I've ever been on," Fox told them, "This is the first real assignment StarFox has done with all of it's teammates since... some very poor decisions that I made. And for what ever reason, it feels like things have been going wrong since the start. No matter how much we prepare, we have always flown blind on this mission. From the way things have gone, we have to expect things to come out of nowhere now more than ever. The odds are against us. But we're used to that. We're better, in fact, when the odds don't favor us. We _excel _at doing the impossible, changing the unchangeable and defying the odds. That's what makes us special. And that's why we're going to come out of this better than ever. Because that's our only choice."

For most of the speech, Fox had been looking at Krystal, far at the end of the table, trying to evoke some sort of response. The blue vixen had stared emptily at the table the entire time, as if she were light-years away. Fox let out a barely-audible sigh, looked at the rest of his team and said, "We've got twelve more hours to prepare. Use them wisely. You're dismissed."

As they all began to get up from their seats, Fox quickly left the war room, heading for the turbolift to A Deck, hoping some zero-g aerobics in the gym-room's gravitron would help him keep his mind on the mission rather than letting it wander onto Krystal or his fears of suffering a flashback while on the _Xerxes_. It was already proving hard; by trying not to think of her, Fox was inadvertently putting her in his mind.

Back in the war room, Falco was the quickest to leave after Fox, with Peppy following close behind as Slippy extracted the data-card from the map-table and gathered up the two holodiscs. He looked up to find that the only other person in the room aside from himself was Krystal, slowly coming out of her chair and walking towards the door as if in the grips of a trance.

"K...Krystal?" Slippy murmured, almost instinctively. The vixen fell out of her trance, twisting to face Slippy as if just noticing him, her bottle-brush tail slithering around the curve of her hip.

"Yes, Slippy?" she answered hoarsely. She didn't seem to mind that he'd called her Krystal, or maybe she didn't care.

Slippy wasn't quite sure what to do next, he'd only half-expected Krystal to respond.

"I, uh, heard about what happened between you and Fox in the galley," he said timidly.

"I'm sure _everyone's_ heard about that. For such a big ship, it's remarkably small," Krystal murmured, as if hardly awake.

For all Falco and Fox and even Peppy had said about how she was a dangerous manipulator that wanted to hurt the team out of spite, Krystal didn't look it. Slippy knew that he wasn't great at reading behavior or social cues, especially when compared to Fox or Peppy, but he didn't see spite in the azure-furred vixen. To him, she looked like someone that had been walking alone through a blizzard: lost, confused, guarded, and sad. He tried to think of something to say before she decided to leave.

"Hey, uh, did you hear I got married?" he offered quietly.

"I hadn't heard," Krystal answered, her eyes looking into his and suddenly Slippy felt an odd, cold tingle spreading from his head down to his toes.

"She's very beautiful," Krystal said eventually.

"Yeah, that's Amy," Slippy nodded with a smile, "She and I got close when the team kind of...well, you know."

Krystal nodded, giving off a sigh as the shadow of a frown formed on her lips. The aqua eyes began to search for the nearest exit.

"But even after we were married and loving it, I still had to come back here when Fox called. I missed feeling like I was part of something with my friends. Fox and Peppy were the first people who ever cared about me when they didn't have to. And I guess Falco's alright, in his own way. I'm really the only person on this team that still has two parents to fall back on, but I still feel like they're my family too," Slippy smiled softly.

"I'm glad for you, Slippy," the vixen whispered, "If you'll excuse me..."

Krystal turned towards the door, and Slippy blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Where are you going to go after this is over? I know you're leaving. Even if you're not on the team, we can still be friends, you know. We should keep in touch," Slippy piped.

Krystal's shoulders sank, and she leaned against the door frame of the war room. Looking back at him, Slippy observed that the once-hard look in her eyes had vanished, as if all the rigid strength within had become brittle and shattered into a thousand pieces, and now all that she could manage was a fragile disconnection.

"I don't know. Far away, where no one knows my name. I don't want anyone that I've ever known to recognize me. I just want to disappear," she answered distantly.

"That's how you want to live your life?" Slippy remarked sadly.

"Who says I want to live?"

Slippy swallowed, feeling a lump in his chest as he looked at Krystal.

"Anybody can find a reason and a way to die, Krystal. It's one of the easiest things to find in this big, dark, empty galaxy. But a way to live? That's hard, especially when life isn't kind. I know you, Krystal. I've seen you face down swarms of Aparoids by yourself and win. You were never someone to take the easy way out," Slippy said, hoping he could see some of the old Krystal in her face, "I know it's hard to forgive and move on, but isn't that as valid a way to deal with your past as going away where no one knows you? And that way gives you a reason, and a way to live, too."

Krystal sniffed tiredly, looking down on Slippy. The vixen tried to harden her gaze, but it was difficult to see cold strength in her eyes when they were shining with moisture.

"But how do I live with _myself_, then?" Krystal asked hollowly, "You _knew _me, Slippy. Not anymore."

With that, the vixen turned and vanished from the war room, and Slippy looked sadly down at his feet.

* * *

Clean body.

Fresh clothes.

Clear mind.

Fox repeated the words to himself, over and over again like a prayer, as he left the lavatory wrapped in a forest green towel and approached the set of clothes he'd laid out on his bed in front of him. Perhaps it was the influence of his father, or his training from the Academy or Peppy or all three, but the simple routine of bathing, putting on a fresh set of clothes and banishing distracting thoughts from his mind had become a ritual for him to complete before heading into a risky situation. Fox had accepted long ago the possibility of dying on a mission, regardless of his determination to survive. Clearing his mind was a way to improve his chances of survival, but on the chance that he was going into his last battle, Fox always made sure that death would find him looking his best.

He let the towel fall to the floor, slipping on a pair of form-fitting black briefs and black socks, picking up a fresh green flight suit and putting both legs inside, then both orange-furred arms and straightening it over his shoulders. He zipped the flight suit up, then picked up the short red scarf and tied it around his neck, reaching behind to pull his tail through the tight hole in the rear of his suit. He cringed as the bushy red tail came through, the burn in the middle still sore hours after provitate and synthflesh had been applied. Fox grabbed his boots and shoved a foot into each, snapping the clasps to secure them around his legs, then picked up the belt with the silver StarFox buckle and wrapped it around his waist. He attached his holster to the belt, his EE-40 blaster nestled inside and slung low on his right hip, secured by a belt over his thigh, then he picked up his reflector device and fastened it to the other side of his waist. Two dextrous hands slipped into a pair of gray and red fingerless gloves, then Fox put his arms through the sleeves of his white StarFox jacket and stood up straight.

He looked through the viewport in the wall at the bright streaks of white and yellow against a background that slowly shifted from white to black and back again. The ship would be at warp for at least a few more minutes.

Fox crouched down and opened a drawer under his bed, removing a warn blue mat and spreading it out on the floor in front of the viewport. He sat down, legs crossed with his hands resting on his knees, facing the speeding universe with his eyes closed. His father had taught him meditation when he was very young, learning the techniques in his travels all over the Lylat System and beyond. Fox remembered him saying that it was like having a very real, fundamental conversation with yourself. It had been _years _since Fox had last meditated, but he knew little of how else to clear his mind with so much going on around it.

He concentrated on his breathing, trying to silence the thoughts in his head that brought him back to visions of fire and decay and cruel turquoise eyes. He went back, long ago to a simpler time when he was much smaller and James McCloud would bring him out to the yard to meditate as the sun rose. He could almost hear his father breathing, deep and controlled next to him, and he tried to follow his lead. He spent a few minutes quietly next to his father, as much as memory would allow, then he opened his eyes and focused on the universe speeding by through the viewport. He focused on nothing else, his mind clear of everything but himself and the universe through his window. He let go of Krystal, of the mission, of the fears for his sanity and safety, he let it all go for just a moment, breathed in and out. He almost felt that he could accept the things he could not change, face the things that he could, and that he had the knowledge to tell the difference.

"**Attention all hands, **_**Great Fox **_**will drop out of warp in ten minutes**," ROB-64's synthetic voice called loudly through the intercom, "**Pilots to hangar bay for launch. All other personnel to landing bay for shuttle boarding. Repeat, **_**Great Fox **_**will drop out of warp in ten minutes. Pilots to hangar bay for launch. All other personnel to landing bay for shuttle boarding**."

"Shit," Fox sighed, looking down.

He'd almost had a grip on something, then he'd lost it. And now there was no putting off the inevitable.

He got to his feet and grabbed his pilot's headset from his sheets, slipping it over the back of his head and feeling the padding securely tighten to his skull. Fox slid open the door and made his way down the white corridor towards the turbolift, seeing Falco at the end of the hall already waiting for it.

"You ready for this?" Falco probed as they both stared at the turbolift doors.

"I'm ready to finish this," Fox whispered.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out. Ya' know, between you an' her."

"It doesn't matter. I lost my chance to fix things a long time ago. I'll just have to make peace with that."

The turbolift door slid aside with a chime, and Falco stepped inside with Fox close behind, pressing the button for F Deck with a azure-plumed finger.

"Well, I told ya' back on Temple that fixin' tha' team wasn't gonna be tha' time of your life," Falco grimaced as the door slid shut.

"Kind of an understatement, there," Fox muttered, feeling a sinking feeling as the turbolift descended.

"What are ya' gonna do if ya' have a flashback while this is going on?"

"I don't know. Try to work my way through it, I guess."

"An' what if Wolfie turns up?"

"Same thing. I'm going to fight him. It's the only option he ever gives me."

"Hope ya' got a plan B. The only time I've ever seen Wolfie get brought down was back on Temple with you an' me gangin' up on him. I don't think we've ever beaten him one-on-one. Not ta' say I don't believe in ya," Falco mentioned.

"Does that mean you've got a better idea?" Fox retorted.

"Ya' could always try _talkin'_ to him," Falco quipped.

Fox glanced wryly at Falco with a snort as the turbolift chimed and the door slid open to reveal the brightly-lit, cavernous expanse of the hangar bay stretched out before them. He stepped a foot out of the turbolift, then paused and looked back as Falco put a hand on his arm.

"Whatever happens, I got your back, Foxie," the avian told him in a tone free of sarcasm.

"Same here," Fox nodded, and they both strode across the ferroconcrete floors of the hangar bay.

"**Attention all hands, **_**Great Fox **_**will drop out of warp in five minutes. Pilots to hangar bay for launch. All other personnel to landing bay for shuttle boarding**," ROB's voice echoed through the hangar as Fox approached the alcove where his personal Arwing lay waiting. He looked over at the alcove on the right, where another Arwing sat gathering dust. He could just make out the name Krystal written near the canopy in flowing script. In Apollo, Falco had proposed that they use Krystal's old Arwing for scrap, and he'd flat out refused. At the time, Fox had been so hopeful that he could find her and say the perfect thing to make everything right.

When this all was over, he was going to start by scraping her name off the fuselage. It was a good first step towards moving on.

Fox pressed a button on a control panel in the alcove wall, watching a group of yellow deck-crew droids leap out of their charging stations across the room and skid towards his Arwing on rubber wheels. The fighter hummed to life, the transparisteel canopy opening with a hydraulic hiss as the control surfaces in the wings opened and closed and the G-diffusers activated. He hoisted himself up and slid into the cockpit, strapping himself into the seat's harness as the computer console read 'WELCOME, FOX MCCLOUD'. The green scouter in his headset extended over Fox's right eye with targeting and communications displays lighting up, and he did a quick check of all systems as the Arwing's canopy closed on top of him with a click. The laser cannons were charged, the bomb magazine was filled to half capacity with nova bombs, and the G-diffusers and plasma engines were receiving good signals from the Arwing's solar ionization reactor.

"Comms check," Fox muttered into his headset microphone as he punched the launch protocol into the console, "Falco, you there?"

"Right next to ya," Falco came back through the headset.

"Peppy?"

"Go for Peppy," the rabbit's rich voice sounded over the headset, "We're all in the _Pleiades_, she's prepped for launch. ROB just needs to drop us out of warp and launch the two of you, then he's going to join us here and we'll take off."

"**Attention all hands, **_**Great Fox **_**dropping out of warp in five seconds**," ROB's voice came over the comlink, and a moment later the ship shuddered slightly as it decelerated from faster-than-light speed.

"I'll see you out there, Peppy, keep her steady," Fox instructed, wrapping one hand around the control stick, the other around the throttle as the deck crew droids dragged the Arwing over to the launch bay elevator, a wide brown magnetic sheet of metal in the concrete floor. He tried to close his eyes and meditate some more, but he could hear his fighter's plasma engines growling with hunger as he neared the elevator. The rush of adrenaline had begun in his veins, and it was all that Fox could do to control his breathing.

The fighter was secured on the elevator pad and it descended with a groan, passing through an atmospheric containment field before coming to a sudden stop. Red signal lights flashed as the electromagnetic catapult coupled with the Arwing's rear, lifting the ship off the elevator platform, carrying it down through a space into the trapezoidal launch tunnel.

Fox's heart was thumping hard in his chest, and his fingers tightened slowly around the control stick. He could feel the energy of the moment all around him, in the cockpit's recycled air and the touch of his Arwing's controls against his palms. Every turn of this assignment had built up to this moment of release; no matter what happened it would all be over after this. Was he in for another duel with Wolf? Another trick from the CSB? Fox had given up trying to anticipate what he was going to face, even the immediate future was as vague and unknowable as the black field of stars at the end of the launch tunnel. He wasn't nervous or anxious. He was determined, bold, maybe even confident. He was _ready _to end this assignment and get back to rebuilding his life, whatever that meant at this point. He felt like he'd been waiting for this moment forever.

"**Engines nominal. All systems go**," ROB certified over the comlink.

The catapult whirred with energy, the pitch growing ever higher. Fox cranked up the throttle, hearing the plasma engines wail behind him as the fighter trembled. He'd tried to clear his mind, but he couldn't, and now the moment was here. The faces of Wolf O'Donnell, Krystal and Gillian Morrow swirled through his head, along with the visions that his own mind had tormented him with. It was useless to deny or banish them. They were a part of his life that he had to meet, head on. There was no more avoiding them; Fox somehow knew that, one way or another, he would face them all. It was going to be a cold, long night. He stared straight ahead with emerald eyes and gripped the control stick.

"**Launch commence**."

The catapult screamed and the engines roared, the g-forces slamming Fox into his pilot's seat as the Arwing blasted out of the tunnel into open space. The blackness of the void, scattered with stars like a sea of diamonds, was merely the canvas for the sight in front of him: the massive, orange and yellow cloud of the Sector Z nebula, less of a letter at this distance and more an impossibly large glowing expanse of interstellar dust, forming a thick horizon in nearly every direction that Fox could see. And straight ahead, framed by the orange nebula in the background, he saw the huge capital starship, shaped almost like a crocodilian, a fish, or an insect, painted a rust red color. On the long, tapering bow section that ended in a small pair of vertical fins at the front, Fox spotted at least seven of the twenty twin assault pulse-laser turrets that he knew took up the primary weapons array. Directly behind it, Fox saw the barrel-shaped portion bristling with more than twenty heavy missile batteries, the shield generator array like three thick crimson fingers gripping the missile pods from underneath. The last section was practically dominated by the engines, enormous primary and secondary sublight drives and even larger warp drive engines taking up the stern. Painted in stark bone white on the side of the sublight engine's housing, Fox spotted the inverted A insignia of the Venomian Empire of Andross.

He was so accustomed to seeing the VNS _Xerxes _in holograms that the ship itself almost didn't look real, a specter yanked from a swashbuckling lost treasure holodrama. It seemed so inviting, so easily attainable from this distance.

Falco's Arwing streaked past, barrel rolling softly before curving around to form up on Fox's left.

"So far so good, eh, Foxie?" Falco remarked.

"ROB just boarded," Peppy came over the comlink, "We're doing the launch procedure now, should be out of the landing bay in a minute or two."

"Come on, let's meet them," Fox instructed, pulling the Arwing into a U-turn, the swan-like form of the _Great Fox _sweeping into view. As the pale mother ship drew closer and closer, Fox tried to make out any visible damage on the hull, but nothing stuck out to him. If the structure was truly damaged, the lower starboard wing in danger of falling off with additional stress, it was impossible to tell from here.

They came around to the rear of the ship and cut their engines, stabilizing their position in space with G-diffuser power as the five-engined rear of the _Pleiades _backed slowly out of the landing bay. The gray arrowhead-shaped shuttle fully withdrew from the landing bay, rotating in space before sailing forward through the void, curving around the rear of the _Great Fox_.

Fox reignited his Arwing's plasma engines and the fighter sped through space after the shuttle, forming up on the right of the _Pleiades_. He was just able to see Falco's Arwing swoop into position on the left of the ship before the grey bulk of the shuttle blocked Fox's view.

"Shuttle three-four-niner _Pleiades_, Arwing TSF-one holding escort formation at your three o'clock, en route to destination at four zero zero kilometers bearing mark point six-five, copy that?" Fox remarked into his microphone.

"Three-four-niner _Pleiades_, Arwing TSF-two holding escort on your nine o'clock, following route, ya' copy?" Falco's voice came through the comm.

"Copy TSF-one and two, three-four-niner _Pleiades_ proceeding," Peppy replied to them both as their ships soared through space towards the far-away capital ship.

"Everyone comfy? Ready ta' collect tha' goods and go home?" Falco roused, his Arwing weaving closer and farther from the shuttle's flank.

"I'll say," Slippy said faintly over the comm.

"Any idea what ya' wanna spend all that cash on?" Falco inquired brightly.

"Dude, come on," Fox chided, "Try to stay focused."

"On _what_?" Falco demanded, "Aside from that ship an' our ships, it's just a bunch of empty space-"

The radar display on Fox's console began to beep and whine with alarm, and Fox looked down to see a large black shape emerging from the bottom right corner of his radar screen.

"You just _had _to say something, Falco," Fox grumbled, "Contact at five o'clock, nature unknown. No registry data or comms response, I'll try to establish visual contact."

"Where tha' hell did it come from?" Falco griped, his Arwing holding steady on the shuttle's left.

"Must've been hiding in the nebula field, it's cutting our sensors," Slippy's muffled voice came over the comm as Fox pulled the Arwing into a turn to face the new contact.

In the distance of the orange nebula, getting closer and bigger by the second, Fox beheld a bulky, long star cruiser shaped basically like a box save for a plow-shaped bow section. It was one of the ugliest ships Fox had ever seen. He had no idea what the Team StarWolf mother ship looked like, even though he knew that it had to exist for practical reasons, but the Venomian rust-red coloring of the ship gave him all the warning that he needed.

"Is it StarWolf?" Peppy demanded.

"It's safe to say it's not friendly," Fox informed, his thumb hovering over the firing button on his control stick in anticipation of launching Wolfens, but the only movement from the advancing ship was a large panel on the bow that slid upwards, revealing the large cylindrical shape with a wide barrel in the center.

The bright yellow beam of a tactical pulse laser erupted from the cannon, a thick sword of energy that stabbed through the blackness and tore into the dorsal hull of the _Pleiades _with a hissing crash.

Fox gasped as the shuttle swerved hard to maintain control, its shields glowing green from the laser blast, and he throttled up and yelled into his microphone "_Pleiades_! Do you copy?"

"Shields at fifty percent! Evasive maneuvers!" Peppy shouted through the comm, the _Pleiades _engines glowing brighter as the ship banked off course with Falco's Arwing close behind.

His Arwing roared through space as the pulse laser fired again, a coherent yellow blade burning through the blackness after the shuttle, narrowly missing another hit as the _Pleiades _curved around its path.

"I'm going to engage the ship, see if I can take out that cannon," Fox announced as the beam disappeared, and the radar display beeped with the appearance of three smaller signatures breaking off from the ship. The display recognized two of the three signatures, giving them each a black arrowhead icon to mark them as B-35 Wolfen starfighters.

"New plan, defend tha' shuttle from tha' new bogies, they're comin' right at ya, Fox!" Falco called out just as Fox spotted a small grey dropship escorted by two Wolfens flying out from underneath the larger brown ship.

"Now this is familiar," the unmistakably gruff voice of Wolf O'Donnell came over the comm.

Fox's jaw tightened and he gunned the Arwing forward to meet the three ships, tapping the firing button and sending a hail of paired laser blasts toward the dropship. The dropship absorbed two impacts before swerving out of the line of fire, the two Wolfens forming up and racing to meet Fox head-on, crimson laser blasts erupting from both. Fox shoved the stick to the side with a grunt, pulling into a hard barrel-roll that flared the shields and scattered the laser blasts, screeching overtop the two Wolfens.

Fox watched his radar display as the two arrowheads curved around to chase his yellow dot, but the dropship was once again in his sights.

The Arwing streaked towards the ship, clipping it with a pair of laser blasts as two sets of twin laser cannon turrets mounted on the top and side of the dropship rotated to lock on Fox. He pulled into a hard Immelman turn as the dropship's cannons spat red laser blasts through space at him, a pair impacting the Arwing with a jolt and reducing his shields to 89%.

"Come on," Fox growled, holding down the firing button to charge up a shot as he turned to aim back at the dropship. The cannons whirred with power and the dropship came back into view, along with the two Wolfens tearing right towards him.

Fox cursed and released the shot, watching the green glob of energy streak harmlessly into space without a lock as the two fighters unleashed a rain of crimson light from their split fuselages. The Arwing was rocked with two more impacts, the shields going down to 74% as Fox tore the ship into a dive out of the line of fire.

"Huh, you attack our escort, it's only fair we take a shot at yours," Wolf growled as one of the black arrowheads broke off pursuit of Fox and lanced toward the _Pleiades_.

"Peppy!" Fox shouted, banking towards the shuttle, only for a stream of red laser beams to flash over the Arwing's nose as Wolf's fighter dove down towards him. He pulled up hard, passing the Wolfen by and banking into a broad turn back around. On the radar display, the black arrowhead turned around to meet him head-on.

"Tha' _fuck _do ya' think _you're_ goin?" Wolf snarled, "Ya' gotta know by now how this works out."

"How about I _show _you how it works, Wolf?" Fox snapped, holding down the firing button as he pulled the Arwing into a corkscrew dive towards the Wolfen, crimson laser bolts flashing through space around him as the power levels whirred upwards.

Fox leveled off as the Wolfen sped at him at point-blank distance, the crosshair locking on in the perfect split second and Fox released the button. A thick glob of green erupted from the Arwing's nose and darted around, chasing Wolf's fighter.

Fox banked around hard, looking up through his canopy to see the charged shot streak into the back of the Wolfen and blow it off course with a green flare.

He shoved the throttle into a boost, feeling the Arwing's engines scream with fury as it tore along the side of the StarWolf mother ship, the _Pleiades _coming into view with another Wolfen on its tail.

"Come on, come on," Fox murmured as he held down the firing button, putting his hopes into the charged shot as the energy levels whirred up. The Wolfen pelted the _Pleiades_' shields with two more laser blasts and Fox's crosshair locked on, a thick charged shot streaking out of the Arwing towards the Wolfen. The starfighter barrel-rolled, it's shield flare swatting the charged shot away, then it pulled up hard until it was head-on with Fox's Arwing.

"Shit!" Fox cursed, tapping the firing button as crimson lasers streamed from the Wolfen, raining around the cockpit.

A pair of green laser bolts pounded into the Wolfen and it veered off course with Falco's Arwing in hot pursuit.

"Let's _dance _ya scaly fuck, you an' me!" Falco menaced as his blue dot chased after the black arrow on the radar screen. Fox spotted the black arrow of Wolf's fighter coming up on his rear, and his Arwing shot into a hard loop under the _Pleides_, coming to face the Wolfen.

Green and red laser blasts flashed back and forth between the two fighters as they weaved back and forth on their collision course, one striking Fox's shields and reducing them to 66%. The Arwing and the Wolfen roared past each other, and this time the black arrow of Wolf's fighter did not turn around to meet him, slicing through the void towards the shuttle.

Fox boosted after Wolf, tapping the firing button and shooting twin laser blasts through space at the verdant engine fires. The four-winged starfighter was able to score two more hits on the _Pleiades _before a laser blast from Fox pounded into the shields, and with a bright blast of green the Wolfen looped under the slow-moving shuttle, streaking back up and tearing over Fox's canopy with a roar like a wounded animal.

Instead of turning after him, Fox banked in the direction of Falco's Arwing, weaving in and out of a lethal dance with Leon Powalski's Wolfen in the distance.

"Fox, the shuttle can't take much more punishment, the shields are holding at 35%," Peppy warned over the comm.

"I'll be there in a second, just let me help Falco," Fox replied, glancing down at his radar display and seeing Wolf's black arrow gaining behind him. Wolf never could resist a chase.

Fox fired off a few lazy laser blasts in Leon's direction as Wolf came within weapons range, a crimson laser beam flashing over the Arwing's canopy.

"Remember this move, Wolf?" Fox demanded, yanking the stick up to execute the cobra maneuver he'd used to beat Wolf in the skies of Venom a decade ago. The Arwing's nose pitched upwards and the fighter stalled through space as the Wolfen shot past, pitching back down and leveling off on the fighter's rear. Fox's thumb was moving towards the firing button as the Wolfen throttled into a boost with a burst of green, the fighter pitching into a loop so tight that it was almost a somersault through space, the Arwing overshooting the fighter just as Wolf leveled off behind him. Fox tore his stick to the right but not quick enough to avoid the laser hit that took his shields down to 58%.

"Ya think I'd _forget _that, McCloud?" Wolf barked, cackling through the comlink as he fired streams of red lasers at Fox.

Fox barrel-rolled, his shield flare scattering Wolf's lasers, yelling into his microphone, "Falco, switch places!"

The other Arwing suddenly broke off it's engagement with Leon Powalski, screaming towards Fox and sending paired green laser blasts over his canopy. The black arrow behind Fox broke off, and Fox's gaze locked onto the Wolfen banking into a wide turn right in front of him. His Arwing tore towards its new foe, firing a hail of laser blasts, hitting Leon's Wolfen twice before it barrel-rolled and swept past him.

"Oh, ta' hell with this shit," Wolf snarled over the comlink as Fox pulled his ship into a hard turn.

"He's comin' right at ya _Pleiades_, take evasive action!" Falco cried.

"Evade _this_," Wolf rumbled just as Fox completed his turn and saw the red cone of a nova bomb shoot out of the far-off Wolfen.

"No!" Fox shouted, boosting towards the shuttle as the fusion explosive sped towards its engines.

The _Pleiades_ soared through the blackness, weaving back and forth to break the nova bomb's lock in vain, the bomb getting closer by the instant. The shuttle released a flare to confuse the bomb's targeting system, but the smart bomb wasn't fooled. It released another and the bomb only drew closer.

Another flare dropped from the shuttle and the _Pleiades_ rocketed into a sharp turn up and to the right, the nova bomb chasing after the flare. A second later there was a bright flash, and a large blue-orange explosion blossomed against the void of space, like a miniature star before fading into nothingness.

"I'm headed for the hangar bay, we can't take any more damage!" Peppy announced, the _Pleiades _soaring through space towards the distant red battleship.

"Falco disengage, we're headed for the ship," Fox instructed, throttling into a boost that sent the Arwing screaming after the shuttle.

"I'm on your tail, Foxie," Falco replied.

"Oh, goddammit, now its a fuckin' race," Wolf hissed over the comm, "We'll be seein' you guys in there."

With that, the two black arrows broke off and moved across Fox's radar screen to join the dropship's radar signature at the other end of his sensor range. He watched the two Wolfens leave like a pair of green comets streaking through space, heading away from them but also moving towards the ship.

Fox leveled off next to the _Pleiades _and looked straight ahead. The _Xerxes _beckoned to whoever could claim it first.

* * *

The _River God_'s entry hatch had finished coupling with the _Xerxes_' airlock, snapping into place just as the nova bomb's explosion bloomed in the distant blackness, framed in the small viewport through which Edgar had watched the battle. As he glared at the tiny ships heading his way, Edgar couldn't help trembling with anticipation.

The moment was almost here, he could feel it growing inside of him, the rage threatening to burn him up from within. He hardly even thought about Kursed or the riches on the ship anymore, his mind relentlessly kept coming back to the fox and the wolf. He knew his brothers were with him, living on inside him and showing him the way. Edgar knew what was coming and he knew nothing could stop him now, not even himself. He saw the faces of the fox and the wolf in his dreams, and their faces made him _hungry_.

He'd bidden his time, waiting below the surface for the perfect moment to strike just like the crocodilian hunters of ancient times, just like daddy and Waylon and Joey wanted. He'd spent so much time following the wolf's ship, from Corneria to Fortuna and finally here, feeling the craving and fury growing in him with every passing moment. While the wolf and the fox fought each other, Edgar had snuck past them both to dock with the ship filled with riches that Waylon had told him about.

Edgar was impressed with himself, he'd never felt so comfortable or aware before; he knew _exactly_ what to do. He didn't get confused anymore, and there were no more headaches, the pain stoking the rage within him was now in his gut, a ravenous void aching to be filled.

He never would've made it this far without Joey's hands and Waylon's brains. Of course, he'd needed more than that on his journey. There wasn't much left of his brothers on the table in the living area. They were inside him now, and when the time came all of them would pass down the river of life together.

The tiny shapes of the ships flying towards the _Xerxes_ were making his fingers shake, his breath was coming out in heavy, rumbling growls. He itched all up his arms and down his back, and he raked his claws down his forearm, hearing the gritty scratch of nails against the bony scales covering his body, but the itch endured. He didn't even feel anything.

He supposed it was his medicine.

Waylon had been making him take it for years, inhaling the canisters they had stocked up in a special drawer in the conservator, labeled 'HOLLOWAN-BIOSYN LABS RETROVIRAL GENE THERAPY SUPPLEMENT'. Edgar didn't understand what those fancy words meant, but he remembered Waylon saying the medicine would make his skin tough so no one could hurt him. Waylon was also the one that kept track of how much medicine he was supposed to take; Edgar thought he might've taken too much of it lately. It felt like his body was covered in a shell, whenever he moved around too much he could hear his scales crunching and grinding together like they hadn't before. He itched like hell, but no matter how hard he scratched he couldn't get relief. The other day, Edgar had forgotten to turn off the arc stove in the living area and accidentally rested his elbow on the circular burner panel. He'd only noticed after the sleeve of his sweatshirt had caught on fire, and even then, it was little more than a warm tingling sensation. But Edgar was glad for it. If the fox and the wolf couldn't hurt him, it meant that he could hurt them _so _much more.

The six ships disappeared from the viewport, and Edgar began to exhale deeper, his breaths rattling out of his chest as his heart thumped impatiently against his ribs. It was almost time. In the dim light of the flickering glowpanels in the ceiling, Edgar turned and stabbed the button next to the entry hatch, hearing a hiss of gas as the hatch opened up into the _Xerxes_ airlock, a rush of stale air hitting his nostrils. It felt cold.

Edgar glanced over to the bulkhead on the left and saw the long brown trenchcoat hanging on the wall, grabbing it off the hook and holding it in his meaty hands. It had been Waylon's coat, the special coat that he'd claimed from the corpse of a cartel enforcer they had run into on Aquas, and even though both he and Joey thought it was so cool they weren't allowed to wear it. He felt Waylon's approval inside him, and Edgar almost wanted to cry. He shoved his arm into one of the sleeves with a grunt but his meaty bicep was too big to fit. After a few seconds of frustration, Edgar snarled and tore both sleeves off, tossing them to the floor and fitting his arms through the new holes. The coat came down just above Edgar's knees and felt tight around his back; Waylon had been smaller than him by a lot. He didn't care. It was just another way for him to feel like Waylon was with him. But he knew he'd need more than just Waylon.

Edgar stepped over to a large crate and picked up the thick two-handed chainsword that Joey had built for him, a strip of jagged, curved teeth lining the bottom edge of the blade more than a meter long. He squeezed the handle and felt the sword buzz to life, the teeth running along the edge in a blur as the hilt shivered in his fist. The chainsword went quiet as Edgar softened his grip, then he strapped the magnetic harness over his back and lifted the chainsword over his shoulder, feeling the harness secure the sword to his back. Just as he reached for the Cygnet M-85 blaster rifle with the attached grenade launcher that his father had prized, Edgar's yellow eyes caught the stack of slappers on the shelf on the nearby wall.

He'd been hitting slappers more than usual as well. He needed to be stronger, to take care of the fox and the wolf. Just the sight of them made his body tremble even more, the itching on his arms becoming more intense.

Just a few more slaps, to make sure he was ready.

Edgar grabbed a handful of the synthetic hyposteroid patches, resting them on his palm before slapping them onto both biceps, then his neck, lifting up his shirt and smacking three of them onto his abdomen. The rush hit his brain like a meteor, his eyes swelling as he heard his heart thumping like a drum in his ears. He let out a hissing squeal, feeling his muscles bulge so much that his scales began scratch against each other. The itching was replaced by a burning ache to match the one in his stomach, and all that Edgar could think about was the fox and the wolf and the taste of their blood on his tongue. He roared so loud it hurt, resonating in the cramped quarters of the _River God_, and he slammed a fist into the bulkhead, tearing and hitting at the walls as if his prey were right in front of him. Edgar thrashed at the wall until his claw-marks were dug deep into the bulkhead, hitting so hard that he thought he might break his hand, but he still couldn't feel anything but _rage_.

With a final bellow, Edgar stopped, standing there breathing as the rush ebbed away like a wave rolling back from the shore. The uncontrollable rage had subsided, joining the rumbling, ravenous hunger in his gut, telling him it was time.

He picked up the shortened bullpup M-85 rifle, feeling the heft in his hands, then he looked to the open access hatch leading into the _Xerxes_. He could almost smell them waiting for him, blood in the water. He had waited for so long, and it was finally time to feast. His brothers were going to be so proud. So proud.

So proud.

"Ready or not..." Edgar rumbled, "Here I come."

* * *

The air within the _Xerxes _smelled stale, old and still, and had the kind of cold that made Wolf think of a tomb. He supposed it was appropriate, since the ship was built to be a last remaining spark to reignite the flames of Andross' vision, and now it was little more than the final relic of a dead empire. If he'd known back then that _this _was the future of Venom's ambition, would he still make the choice to abandon his family, betray his Commonwealth and serve the will of a tyrant with a mad dream? It was impossible for Wolf to say for sure. Back then, he was willing to do anything to be free of his family, get off Katina and never look back. What future could Wolf have there? What future did Leon, his only friend that according to everyone needed to be institutionalized or in therapy, have there? He saw no point in lying to himself.

He probably would've done it anyway.

Wolf exhaled and continued down the gray corridor with Panther and Leon, his eye glancing at the occasional posters on the wall with legions of Venomian soldiers and the words TOMORROW BELONGS TO US, or the proud face of Andross staring out at them with benevolent strength in eyes the color of molten lava. After landing in the _Xerxes'_ main hangar bay, the three of them left IG-N 96 to guard _Fang One _along with Wolf and Leon's Wolfens, heading towards their assigned locations on the ship to reboot the critical systems. Before the Battle of Venom changed circumstances so radically for Team StarWolf, IG was considered for reassignment to the _Xerxes _as Andross' emissary droid, thus he was able to give them a detailed map of the ship to download into their comlinks and find their way around. Currently, Wolf could see his progress on the map displayed in the lower left corner of his implant's vision. They were coming close to the point at which they would begin to split up, a fork in the corridor near a turbolift to the upper decks.

"**Announcement: Lord O'Donnell, I have an update**," IG's voice came over the comlink.

"What's up, IG?" Wolf inquired, putting a finger to the side of his implant.

"**I took the liberty of bringing along a few proximity mines from the **_**Lone Wolf**_**. I've successfully modified them to detect the frequency of your comlink as well as those of Comrades Powalski and Caruso. When your frequency gets within a meter's distance of the proximity fuse's range, the mines will disarm. I'm placing these mines near every entry point to the main hangar bay to catch any would-be saboteurs**," the droid informed them.

"Good thinkin," Wolf remarked.

"Did you find out anything more about that little personal ship we found in the hangar bay?" Leon probed, speaking into the comlink mounted on his wrist.

"**However small, the ship **_**is **_**warp-capable**," IG answered, "**And, according to thermal signatures, it touched down in the landing bay quite recently, perhaps no more than a few minutes before we did. It's registered on Macbeth to someone named 'Algy'. It is a reasonable inference that, somehow, someone besides StarFox is on this ship with us. Exercise caution**."

With that, Wolf produced his modified DC-15 blaster pistol as Leon withdrew his VenArms SK-7 from the holster on his waist.

"Gotcha," Wolf nodded, "Ya' saw where StarFox landed, right?"

"**Reply: They appeared to be headed for the port-side auxiliary hangar bay, my Lord**," the android responded.

"When you're through layin' the mines, head there an' run train on whoever ya' find."

"**By your command, Lord O'Donnell, it will be a pleasure. IG-N 96 out**," the robot came back before signing off.

The hissing sound of a burner joined the tapping sound of their footsteps on the metal, and Wolf looked to the right, past Leon to see Panther lighting a black-papered kretek between his lips.

"For fuck's sake, Panther," Wolf grumbled.

"What? We're not on _your _ship anymore," the feline protested, bluish smoke jetting out of his nostrils.

"You _do _know that with the ship's vital systems deactivated, that means the atmosphere recyclers are off, too," Leon remarked, "Whatever air is left on this ship right now is all we've got until someone turns the life support back on."

"Well, it is quite a big ship," Panther shrugged, "I'm sure one little ciggy won't do much harm. You know, I have this electronic cigarette that just uses nicotine vapor, it doesn't even make smoke. I'll have to find the battery for it so I can tend to my vices on the _Lone Wolf_."

"That fuckin' _stench_, Panther," Wolf scowled, waving a clawed hand in front of his snout, "It's like...hold up a minute..."

Wolf stopped in his tracks, sniffing the air. There was something else, a familiar odor that he hadn't smelled in a while. He probably would've been able to make it out better if it wasn't for Panther's damned cigarette.

"What is it, Wolf?" Leon inquired, stopping and looking back at him.

"Somethin's up..." Wolf muttered, sniffing with his snout turned upwards, trying to sort through the overwhelming taste of burning cloves and tobacco smoke, trying to identify the smell underneath.

Movement caught their eyes, and they all looked down the corridor to see the glimmering light of a glowrod reflecting off the walls from around a left turn in the corridor. They all went silent, Panther drawing his chromed MacTech 23-E blaster pistol and aiming down the hall with the rest of them, the kretek still glowing between his teeth. The StarWolf team crept down the corridor towards the turn, their footsteps making only the slightest noise against the metal floor as the light of the glowrod around the corner played off the walls.

As they neared the turn, Leon silently tapped Panther on the shoulder and motioned for him to put out his kretek, mouthing words that Wolf couldn't make out. The feline leered at the reptilian with golden eyes and waved a dismissive hand, then Leon hissed something in a hushed tone and made a grab for the cigarette. Panther shrank back and made an obscene gesture with his arms, and Leon reached for one of the long daggers sheathed on his back with his free hand. Wolf yanked the chameleon to his side, scowling at both of his teammates like he would a pair of retarded children.

Panther took a quiet drag of his kretek, the end glowing orange in the dimness, and they all lurked closer to the turn, hearing a dull, reedy voice muttering to itself.

Wolf held up hand to signal them to stop, then three clawed fingers. He counted down, three, two, one, and the StarWolf team burst out from around the corner, thrusting their blasters into the face of a scrawny, pale-furred ape wearing an outfit colored yellow, red and white. The ape wailed with shock and dropped the glowrod and the blaster pistol he'd been holding, falling back against the bulkhead with his hands raised in fright.

As the ape's cries died down and Wolf got a good look at his face in the light of the glowrod, there was a split-second of pause in which they seemed to recognize each other at the same time.

"Boys! Boys, it's just me," Andrew Oikonny professed, his hands still up as his back snuggled against the wall.

"_Andrew_?" Leon demanded, his high voice heavy with confusion and disappointment.

"What tha' fuck are _you _doin' here?" Wolf interrogated, equally puzzled.

The primate came forward from the wall, his hands still raised and an uneven, unattractive smile on his fleshy face. His white tail swatted to the side and curled like a worm baking on a hot sidewalk.

"I can explain everything guys, just... can you put the _guns _down for me?" Andrew simpered.

Wolf lowered his blaster slowly and holstered it, Panther following his lead, while Leon merely lowered his pistol and narrowed his eyes at the ape.

"Do I know this guy?" Panther inquired, flicking ash off his kretek before bringing it back to his lips, "Should I?"

"Former business associate. You replaced him," Leon replied.

"I thought I replaced Pigma."

"You replaced _both_. This one just left earlier."

"Ahhh."

"Ya' wanna tell us what you're doin' here?" Wolf growled.

"Sure, I'm just..." Andrew nodded, picking up his glowrod and blaster pistol, "Touring my birthright. Accounting for the damage over the years. See, look at this."

Andrew gestured with the beam of his glowrod to a wide, empty turbolift shaft to the right, the one that the StarWolf team had been making their way towards. The shaft doors were missing, bordered all around by scorchmarks and melted metal, and the shaft's depths were concealed by deep shadows that made the drop down seem limitless.

"This must've been where Zaius' troops blew the turbolift to cut my soldiers off from quick access to the upper decks," Andrew mused, "I'll bet there's a few _more _dents and scratches that nutjob orangutan left on this thing. Good thing _he's_ not around anymore to get in the way."

"How did you get here?" Leon examined. Andrew smiled.

"Turns out the copy protection on those discs wasn't as good as Zaius thought," the ape explained, "I've had a copy of his disc for a while now. I've been able to _track _the ship, I just couldn't _catch _it. Until now, that is. Somebody even led the rebels to Zaius' camp, giving me the opportunity to escape. Don't know who to thank, StarFox or you guys, but I have to admit it was fortuitous. This ship had _so _much potential, you know. Still does. It was a mistake to leave it in Zaius' hands."

Wolf and Leon exchanged looks, Panther joining in with a raised eyebrow as he blew smoke lightly out of his nose. They all seemed to notice the fact that Andrew was holding his blaster pistol in a manner that it would be very easy to bring it up and shoot them.

"You guys want to know something about the Battle of Venom? If it looked like we were going to lose, Zaius was supposed to launch the singularity device as a last resort to take out the Cornerian fleet. Instead, he ordered what was left of our forces to _warp away_," Andrew ranted, "He said he didn't _trust_ the singularity device because it was untested, that he was _afraid_ the black hole it formed would consume Venom itself. He was afraid! To do what was necessary. We should've known. He always was a fool. It's no wonder that he lost his shit in that jungle."

"So what do you _want_?" Wolf pressed, his eye narrowing.

"Want?" Andrew remarked, as if it was obvious, "I want this _ship_. I want it's weapons, and I want the money it's holding so that I can build up my _army_. I'm going to use it to end the Commonwealth occupation of Venom and re-forge Emperor Andross' dream of a greater Lylat through fire and _blood_. It's the only thing I've wanted for _years_, Wolf."

"Uh-huh," Wolf grunted, giving a sideways glance at Leon.

"I can assume you're here on someone else's orders, I'm guessing some cartel guatrau or...ambitious benefactor, whoever it is," Andrew said dismissively, "It's no matter. We can work together, you know. StarWolf can be a part of the reborn Venomian Empire. I know this ship, and I can show you how to get control of it before StarFox does. I trust you guys. The two of you always were good friends."

Wolf took a step backwards, his pointed ears flattening briefly, and he and Leon looked at one another, baffled.

"We _were_?" The lupine and reptile said at the same time with equal incredulity. Panther snorted a puff of blue smoke out his nose, ashing his kretek with a smile that warped the half-moon scar on his cheek.

Andrew didn't seem to notice, gesturing whimsically with his blaster pistol as he continued.

"I'm not sure what kind of deal your client worked out with you, but I can make it worth your while," the ape proposed, "I need most of the funds on the ship for raising an army, naturally. I can give you, maybe ten percent now, I think. That's at least a few billion for the three of you. And I can give you much more once my forces control Venom, of course..."

Wolf and Leon looked at each other once again as Andrew continued to talk, Wolf cocking an eyebrow. Leon made a face that Wolf interpreted as _"Come _on. _Can't _believe_ you have to think_ _about this."_

As adventageous as allying with Andrew could be, they would be fools to trust him. If they went back on their arrangement with Connolly, it would ruin StarWolf's reputation _and _mark them for death from the Samedi Cartel. Not to mention the fact that Andrew's offer was for 10% of the_ Xerxes' _loot and their deal with Connolly was for half. And, ultimately, the thought of working with Andrew again (let alone working _for _him) made Wolf want to hurt something. It really was as simple as that.

Wolf nodded at Leon and Panther's smirk deepened as he took another drag of his kretek.

He slowly moved closer to Andrew as he continued to talk, oblivious to their decision.

"...and, of course, once I rebuild Venom and move to re-conquer the Lylat System in the memory of Emperor Andross, StarWolf will be greatly rewarded for it's years of service. Is there a world that all of you fancy in particular? Besides Corneria, of course," Andrew droned as Wolf loomed closer, his words dropping off and his tail drooping as a look of concern spread over his face, "...Um, Wolf?"

"Yeah?" Wolf answered, taking a bold step closer. Andrew stepped back.

"Is there something you don't like about my offer? We can still...er...negotiate..." the ape murmured, slowly bringing up his blaster pistol. Wolf raised a clawed hand and smiled warmly as if to tell Andrew that everything was fine, and the ape's hold on the pistol wavered a bit.

"You're offer's just fine, Andrew," Wolf shrugged, "Now, let me make a _counter-offer_."

Wolf lunged and ripped the pistol out of Andrew's hands, flinging it down the corridor as the ape cried out loudly, then he clamped a hand over the ape's thin white neck, lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the bulkhead. The glowrod clattered to the floor, bathing Wolf's face in a harsh light and casting wild shadows on the wall as Andrew's feet kicked through the air, struggling to find holding.

"Wait! Hold on a sec!" Andrew gagged frantically.

"Get back in your little ship, get a fuckin' clue an' _pray _I never see your face again, Andrew," Wolf menaced, bringing his nose close to the ape's face. He ignored the instinct telling him to bite Andrew's lips off.

"Guys, wait, please!" Andrew choked out, his reedy voice a guttural whisper, "If you just-"

"Ya' wanna know tha' thing I always _hated _about you?" Wolf snarled, baring his teeth and smashing the ape's head into the wall with his free hand to silence him, "Even when Fox McCloud _killed _him, Andross' head _still _wasn't as big as _yours_. An' for all that size, there ain't much more than _air _in that fuckin' skull. If your chimpo parents had any goddamn sense, they woulda drowned you at _birth_. You got _no _idea how many years I wanted ta' do this."

"_Wolf_," Andrew coughed, tears gushing out of beady eyes swollen with fright as he kicked his feet and struggled in vain to pry Wolf's hand off his neck, "_Wolf, please..._"

"Tha' shame of it is, even after all this time I don't think you've got tha' smarts ta' realize what a pathetic worthless little _shit_ you always were," Wolf spat, "If ya' did, it'd almost be worth lettin' you _live_..."

"_Wolf...ugk-ughhh...lease_," Andrew choked, tears streaming down his face, his legs kicking and his tail twitching more than ever. His yellow pants turned a shade darker and became a lot wetter, and something began to drip down his leg onto the metal floor.

Wolf growled and tightened his grip, hearing a faint crushing sound as Andrew's pleas grew quieter, his arms and legs jerking more by reflex than by choice. The ape opened his mouth, his tongue sloughing out limply as he struggled to breathe for a few seconds, then he let out a crackling gurgle and his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Wolf threw Andrew's limp body to the floor with a revolted grunt, landing at Leon and Panther's feet in a tangle of bony arms and legs. Panther shook his head in mock pity, while an enraptured smirk spread over Leon's green face. Wolf rolled his neck from side to side, feeling the cracking of vertebrae, and by the time he opened his eye again Leon was aiming his SK-7 at Andrew's supine form.

"What're ya' doin?" Wolf demanded.

"He's still breathing," Leon replied, "We should do something about that."

"He's not gonna do anything after that," Wolf dismissed, "Just leave him. We got shit ta' do."

"I'm _shocked _to hear myself say this, but I'm with Leon on this one," Panther protested, a geyser of smoke jetting out of his jaws, "He knows the ship, and now he knows for _sure _he can't trust us. We don't want him waking up and making trouble."

"When he wakes up, he'll _leave_," Wolf growled, "He's stupid, but not stupid enough to take on us _and _StarFox on his own. Let's go."

"Wolf, what is your _issue _here?" Leon interrogated coldly, "You just told him how much you wanted to kill him."

"It's hardly worth killin' him unarmed an' unconscious like a filthy _rat_," Wolf shot back, "I _said _let's _go_."

"No," Leon hissed, his voice sharp with ice, "If you can't bring yourself to do this, Wolf, then we have a _problem_. Andrew's maybe a bigger obstacle to our success than StarFox; he knows how the ship works, he knows what to do, and because he's _stupid _enough to think he can do it on his own, there's no telling what'll happen if he gets control of even a small part of this ship. Now I know your dad just _died_ and that's important and shit, but if that means you can't do what needs to be done anymore then maybe _you're _not the right person to lead this team."

"FINE, GODDAMMIT! I'LL DO IT MYSELF!" Wolf roared, storming over to Andrew's body and scooping it up in his arms, lifting the ape up and moving towards the open turbolift shaft. In those short handful of steps, Andrew stirred, his eyes opened and he looked frenziedly in every direction, for what Wolf never knew.

Andross' nephew wriggled in Wolf's arms, sounding off cries of protest and pleas for mercy as Wolf yowled and hurled the ape into the turbolift shaft. Andrew hit the opposite side of the shaft with a grunt, then let out a high-pitched scream that echoed up at them as he plunged down into the darkness.

"Hmph. Well he's definitely dead now," Panther quipped, flicking his kretek down the shaft, "Can't believe my predecessor was _that _guy. You boys _upgraded _when you got me."

Wolf breathed raggedly, staring down the shaft, then turned and glared hatefully at Leon. The chameleon was smiling in a knowing way, as if he'd done something in Wolf's best interest that he would eventually thank him for. He couldn't remember a time that he wanted to pummel Leon like right now.

"There," Wolf rumbled, "Are you fuckin' happy?"

"I don't think I can _feel_ happy," Leon shrugged, "But I'm satisfied. Now, I seem to remember some things we have to take care of pretty soon if we want to seize this ship before StarFox. I think that fork up ahead is where we need to split up. The right way leads to the maintenance tunnel access, and the left leads to the main corridors. In that case, it looks like Panther and I are going left and you're heading right."

Wolf tried to bring his breathing back to a steady rhythm and calm his anger. A part of him wanted to yell at Leon for presuming to tell him what to do, but he knew it would only make him come off as more uncontrolled and less of a leader. His only friend knew exactly how to get to him, and that pissed Wolf off the most.

"Looks like that ta' me, too," was Wolf's only response as he clenched his hands into tight fists.

"Then we'll see you later, fearless leader," Leon smiled, "I feel sorry for whoever runs into _you_."

With that, Panther and Leon strode off quickly down the corridor, taking the left fork and disappearing around a corner. Wolf breathed deeply a few more times, but the fur on the back of his neck refused to go back down and his tail stayed rigid. He had to move. There was still a job to do.

Wolf snapped his teeth at the air and stormed off down the right fork of the corridor, his gait swift and wide. He reached into his pants pocket and felt the small plastic object inside, hoping it would take his mind off what just happened. He'd had the object for years, both a trophy and an artifact of a day he remembered as one of great triumph and disappointment. Wolf had brought it just in case he ran into McCloud at any point, hoping he could get a rise out of him by bringing up an old wound. The only way to find out was to continue down the path.

Back at the opening of the turbolift shaft, Andrew Oikonny's abandoned glowrod remained lit on the ground, casting eerie shadows on the surrounding walls. But even the light of the glowrod couldn't penetrate the abyss of the shaft, a darkness as perfect and consuming as the grave.

* * *

Kursed didn't believe in taking her time on this one. She didn't know how much time she had, and she didn't know how much longer she could handle being around Team StarFox with everything exposed as it was. There was also the matter of racing StarWolf to secure the ship first. She wanted to win, she wanted to finish this mission, and most of all she wanted to move on and get away from Fox and his team and everything that reminded her of it. The longer she remained, the more confusion she felt.

She reminded herself that she was _Kursed_, she was strong and unforgiving, and the only way to quell the frigid fire tormenting her was to run far enough away to forget all the pain that sparked it. She wanted to be free from all of it, from this hopeless civilization that she'd never understand, and wander the cosmos until the end of her days, like the Cerinian _denaijaemahn _warriors of old. Maybe if she lost herself enough in the stars, she could lose the part of her that wouldn't let her sleep.

And if that meant enduring one last mission with the male who had ruined her, Kursed was willing to endure. She would prove herself stronger he, then she would leave without ever looking back.

Her boots tapped on the metal floors as she looked from side to side, a hand always resting on one of the DC-15 blasters holstered at her hips. At nearly every turn in the corridor there was a sign that told her where the path led, she almost didn't need the map that Slippy downloaded onto her comlink. She preferred to minimize the amount of interaction she had with any member of StarFox, both to show them that she didn't need their help and to prevent the flood of conflicting thoughts that came up whenever she talked to one of them.

Kursed took a left and increased her pace to a brusque jog, her bottlebrush tail bobbing behind her, the low humming sound telling her that she was close. The humming got louder as she pounded down the hallway, and she brushed a lock of blue hair out of her face as she noticed a wide doorway down the corridor to the right. She slowed as she approached it, beholding the space framed in the doorway: It was a large, almost circular room, dimly lit with a massive piece of machinery in the very center. The artificial gravity generator in the center of the room was the size of a small starship, taller than a house, a base shaped almost like a giant altar with a ring of control vanes and a broad metal bulb protruding from the top like a balloon, where the sound of humming was most intense. Most impressive about the room however was the floor, made entirely of thick transparisteel, through which she could make out the six gargantuan metal fingers of the _Xerxes'_ shield generator array joining together directly under the enormous machine in the center of the room. The impression that the practically transparent floor would've given off was dulled by the other pieces of machinery and the several tall stacks of large metal crates scattered around the room. Kursed allowed herself a brief smile of satisfaction.

It had taken her longer than she thought, but she'd finally found the shield generator and life system control room. Her footsteps made a much sharper tapping sound as she moved across the room towards the central generator column, she wasn't sure if it was because of the transparisteel of the floor or the acoustics of the cavernous room. She felt a weird sensation as she moved closer to the machine, feeling somewhat weightless even though her feet always came back down onto the floor.

Kursed stopped at one of the holographic touch-screen control panels on the large device, scanning over what it said:

**Shield Generator/Life Systems Control**

**Touch icons to select options**

**CLIMATE CONTROL: TEMP 18°, HUMIDITY 40%**

**ARTIFICIAL GRAVITY: Omotanium GC stable, systems nominal. SYSTEM TEST?**

**INERTIAL COMPENSATION: DISABLED!**

**RAY/PARTICLE DEFLECTOR SHIELD ARRAY: DISABLED! **

**ATMOSPHERE: O2 levels nominal, recycling unit DISABLED!**

**WATER/COOLANT: H2O purification DISABLED!**

Kursed touched the icon for the inertial compensation system, watching the screen fill with numbers and readouts, and for a moment she thought she might have to call Slippy then the list of data ended and an icon appeared at the bottom labeled **Ship systems are in Safe Mode. Manually ENABLE?**

She touched the icon and the screen told her to **Please Wait**, and Kursed heard a momentary whirring noise from above in the depths of the generator column, then the screen re-displayed the main menu with the inertial compensation system now reading **ENABLED, system nominal**.

Kursed nodded and repeated a similar process for every item down the list, taking note when she enabled the atmosphere recycling system that a vent in the wall began to softly blow air into the room. When she had finished with every icon on the list, double checking to make sure that she'd enabled every disabled system, Kursed nodded and put a delicate finger to the comlink attached to her left ear.

"Kursed," she reported softly, "I've re-activated the shield generator and life support systems."

"Good job, you're the first done!" Slippy chimed back brightly.

"What a surprise," Kursed dismissed, taking her finger away from her ear. It was at that point that she felt the weird tingle traveling up her spine into her head, the alarm from the unconscious warning system that her mental abilities provided. She put a cautious hand on her blaster pistol, scanning from side to side, when she suddenly heard a loud sniffing sound.

"Mmmmmh," a smooth, deep voice purred from behind, "You smell like you're _ovulating_."

A grimace of disgust twisted along her lips and she drew one of her heavy blasters, turning around slowly towards the doorway of the room.

Leaning against the doorway, a chromed pistol with a long barrel held casually at his side was a lithe feline with golden eyes and midnight black fur, wearing a purple and white space suit with gold trim. Beginning near the bridge of the panther's snout, curving under his eye all the way down to his jaw, was a scar in the shape of a crescent moon. A charming, debonair smile spread across his face as he undressed her with his eyes, making the crescent-moon scar curl even more.

"Oh, you have no idea how I've dreamt of this moment," Panther Caruso pined, "night and day, of seeing your face again."

"Really?" Kursed replied tepidly, "I haven't given you a second thought."

Panther shook his head and put a hand to his chest as if removing a thorn from his heart.

"Tsk. My dear, what has made you so cruel?"

"_Life_," Kursed shot back venomously.

The feline sighed and smiled in a sentimental way that made her want to break his teeth; it was almost worse than Fox's self-pitying grabs at reconciliation. She couldn't figure out why she didn't just raise her pistol and shoot him.

"There are few things that speak to my soul quite like a fallen angel," Panther mused in a velvet voice, as if reciting poetry, "I would love nothing more than to stay here with you and discuss matters of the heart, but I'm working. And since I could never bring myself to raise a hand against you, I fear I must leave you with my much... _rougher _companion."

From behind Panther stepped a thin chameleon in a tight black stealth suit, wearing white gloves over spidery, three-fingered hands. Leon Powalski's small, pale eyes were empty of all emotion, and as he saw her he ran a thin tongue over his upper lip.

"But fear not, beloved Krystal. Or Kursed, whichever you prefer. A rose by any other name smells just as sweet," Panther crooned, producing a buxom red rose and sniffing it lightly, "And no matter the name you choose, you will always remain in my heart. I leave you this: A token of my affections."

Panther gave the rose a tender, passionate kiss and tossed it high into the air, where it landed practically at her feet. She looked up from the rose to see Panther moving to the other side of the doorway as Leon began a purposeful, step-by-step walk in her direction.

"Play nice, you two," Panther said with a smile, then he vanished down the corridor.

Kursed's jaw tightened and she stared at the advancing chameleon, and he stared back. In his hand he held a lethal-looking black pistol with a barrel that extended a short distance from the body. He held it at his side and glanced at the DC-15 in her hand curiously. She was unnerved by what she perceived when she tried to read his mind; where she could interpret the thoughts of most other beings like sentences or detailed pictures, the reptile's thoughts were like a blur of colors, shapes, and the most basic of instincts. Still, she was able to grasp what he wanted.

"No guns?" she clarified quietly.

"I'd rather not start with them, at least," Leon returned in a calm, almost casual tone, "Blasters are so quick. There's no time to appreciate all the...little details and emotions. Fighting someone without a gun shows them who you really are."

Kursed nodded once, and they mirrored each other's movements, slowly inserting their guns back into their holsters.

"Is it so important for you to know who I really am?" she inquired.

"No. I just don't want this to be over too quickly. I want to _savor _it."

Kursed reached behind her shoulder and pulled her collapsed electrostaff from its scabbard. She thumbed the button in the center and the metal staff extended to almost two meters in length, arcs of purplish-white electricity dancing around the emitters at each end. Kursed whirled the staff around until she stood in ready position, watching a faint, lifeless smile spread across Leon's face. The stream of consciousness she perceived from him was enough to make her breath come out in a quiet shudder, and Kursed began to doubt that she'd be able to read and anticipate this opponent's moves like she could others. She suppressed the rush of anxiety that rose in her chest. She was _stronger _than that. She would not back down.

"You have very strange thought patterns," Kursed told him in a hushed tone.

"I'm a pretty strange lizard," Leon retorted, reaching both arms behind his head.

With a lethal singing of exposed steel, the chameleon drew a pair of Ryuki fighting blades, daggers from an island chain in Zoness with long thin central blades and a pair of curved prongs projecting from the handle, forming a trident shape. Leon's spidery fingers gripped each knife by the upper handle where the blade and the side guard prongs met, casually spinning each in a vortex of steel in his hands as he widened his stance. Kursed took one more deep breath as Leon's whip-like tail curled in anticipation.

"Shall we?" the reptilian sneered.

Like a switch had gone off, Leon darted toward her in a blur and Kursed swung the end of her staff, producing a crash of sound and sparks as he caught the strike in the sideguards of both blades. The chameleon pressed her backwards and Kursed stumbled, swinging the staff again as Leon caught it with one dagger, shoved it away and jabbed at her face with the other. Kursed felt the blade cut through the air above her nose as she lurched back, spinning the staff out of Leon's sideguard with a crackle of electricity as the chameleon pressed forward. She swung the staff in an overhead arc that Leon blocked with his daggers and she whirled the staff for a strike at his knees with the other end, the lizard barely dodging with a vicious hiss. Kursed kept him on the defensive, jabbing at Leon's face, his chest, his groin, forcing him back with every block as their weapons collided with electric sizzles and crackling sparks. He blocked her jab to his stomach and Kursed twisted around, striking into another block from Leon to the bottom end of the staff before bringing the top end cracking into his shoulder with a yell.

The room sizzled and rang with Leon's pained cry as he stumbled to the side and Kursed threw the electrostaff around her back, catching it around her shoulder and smashing it into Leon's quick block. The blow staggered the chameleon and the end of the staff sank closer to his face, then he lashed out with a high kick that caught the electrostaff at the middle and forced it down to the side. Kursed re-directed the staff in her hands and swiped at Leon's hip, missing as he dropped to the ground in a leg sweep meant to throw her on her back. She hopped into the air and Leon's foot swept underneath, her boots touching the ground just in time to block a low stab from Leon's left dagger. He shot up from the ground, forcing her off balance and slicing out with his right blade, cutting a shallow line through the armorweave above her left hip. The vixen leapt back, swinging at him with the low end of the staff and Leon grunted with pain as he blocked it with his elbow just above the sparking emitter, catching her overhead strike with his right dagger, then twisting around and kicking her hard in the stomach. Kursed cried with shock as her back slammed into a metal crate, and she barely had enough time to cartwheel to the side before Leon pounced forward and carved two deep gashes into the metal where her neck used to be. The crack of Leon's tail lashing at the floor in front of her stopped Kursed from moving to strike at his side, the blur of Leon charging was all she saw before he caught her staff in the guard of his left dagger, shoving it aside and stabbing at her chest with his right. Kursed ducked the blade and caught Leon by his wrist, yanking him forward and headbutting him between the eyes.

The killer chameleon fell back disoriented and Kursed readjusted her grip on the electrostaff, rushing forward and swinging the staff up in another over head strike at Leon's face. He caught the staff with one dagger and the vixen pulled back, bringing it back around and sweeping at his legs, but the chameleon jumped over the crackling emitter and shot a midair kick into Kursed's sternum. The stunning feeling of having the wind knocked out of her washed over Kursed as she crashed into the artificial gravity generator, and she gasped in a breath as Leon shot towards her. The chameleon let out a frenzied scream, leaping through the air with both daggers high over his head, bringing them down in an echoing clang against the middle of the staff. The side-guards locked around the staff, Leon pressed forward and down, shoving closer to her with an open-mouthed grin and Kursed struck him on the nose with the heel of her left palm, driving him back. The blue vixen advanced with a yell of fury, striking overhead, then to the left and then the right, forcing the lizard to retreat as she swung upwards with the bottom end, stabbing twice into Leon's blocks then whirling the staff around her side and over her head. The lizard side-stepped as the electrostaff smacked into the transparisteel floor with a burst of purple sparks, and Kursed brought the staff back into a two-handed grip with a spinning flourish and a frigid glare at the psychopathic reptile.

Leon skoffed and rolled his eyes at her, twirling both daggers in his hands, then he sprinted at her in a blur of black and green. He ducked under her sweeping strike to the side of his head, twisting his body to stab at her face, but Kursed stunned him by bashing the middle of the staff into his chest and then brought the bottom end up for a strike to his abdomen. Leon caught the strike between his daggers, shoving the staff away and jabbing both blades at her chest. Kursed dodged with a spin to his side, shoving him back with the middle of her staff and lashing the bottom end into the base of Leon's tail. The lizard bellowed and jerked forward into the artificial gravity generator as Kursed brought the staff up like a spear and aimed a critical strike at Leon's shoulderblade. The lizard swept to the side, spinning to face her as the end of the staff hit the generator with an energized pow and Leon slashed at her chest. Kursed lunged back but not quick enough, feeling a sting as the razor sharp blade tore through her armorweave and made a long cut below her collarbone. She hissed in pain and shrank backwards, warding Leon off with a feigned strike from the bottom end, but the lizard came at her with a flurry of blows with both daggers, the clatter of the blades hitting her staff making a beat they could almost dance to. Leon swept the staff away with his left dagger and brought his right dagger over his head in a downward slash as Kursed side-stepped and brought the staff down onto his exposed arm. There was a crack of sparks and bone and the lizard howled in agony as Kursed lunged forward and struck him in the chest. The burst of electricity and Leon's yells of pain were joined by the satisfying sound of the dagger falling out of his right hand and clattering to the transparisteel floor, and Kursed twirled the electrostaff in her arms as her opponent staggered backwards. She thought she might've broken Leon's arm with that last strike, so it surprised her when he reached behind his back and then flung something shiny at her with a flick of his wrist. Kursed weaved to the side and heard a whipping of air as a throwing knife whizzed past her ear and rattled onto the floor somewhere.

"An extra knife?" Kursed remarked breathlessly, blinking sweat out of her eyes.

"I _always_ have an extra knife," Leon hissed, sheathing his remaining dagger behind his shoulder and reaching for his belt, producing a pair of throwing knives in each hand so fast they seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Leon stepped forward and flung a knife at her chest, which Kursed smacked away with her staff. He did it again and again, each time taking a step and throwing a knife that Kursed had to either dodge or swat out of the air. She batted away a fourth blade, then Leon produced throwing knife number five and a three-pronged black object, pressing a button in the center that caused a wickedly curved blade to snap out of each prong. He flicked the knife at her with his left hand and hurled the throwing star at her with his right, letting them fly at practically the same time.

They both spun at her in the blink of an eye and Kursed bent backwards, swinging out with the bottom end of her staff and knocking away the throwing knife, watching the throwing star whirl over her face in a cyclone of blades.

She stumbled backwards as she tried to come back up, catching her balance and breathing raggedly from the fatigue of an intense battle. She finally began to feel the stinging of the cuts in her side and below her collarbone, the warmth as blood oozed down her armorweave or soaked into the fur underneath. Her face dropped into a frown as he saw Leon pick up his fallen dagger from the floor with a gleam in his pale eyes, reaching behind his shoulder to draw the other fighting blade, then spinning them both in his hands.

His breathing was calm, measured, almost bored, and there wasn't even a drop of sweat on him.

"Now... where were we?" Leon pondered smugly, his tail whipping the air behind him.

Kursed swallowed, tightened her jaw and flourished her electrostaff with a defiant twirl. She didn't know how much longer she could keep fighting like this, and that was not good. Because Leon wasn't going to stop until she was dead.


	17. You and I

****AUTHOR'S NOTE: Things are drawing to a close, and I'm trying to get this story finished for you soon. A lot of the stuff in this chapter is stuff that I wanted to do when I started this story; it's where the title comes from and, thematically I'd say its one of the most important chapters. I'd really like to hear your thoughts, if I executed things right, maybe even where you think things are going to end up, so please leave a review for me. Oh, and I ran into some format errors while putting this up, so if I missed fixing one please tell me. Enjoy -TU

* * *

**-You and I-**

Slippy Toad felt the weight of the ArmsCor EX-3 blaster rifle in his hands, the butt pressing hard into his shoulder as he scanned the empty hangar bay for signs of trouble. It was his turn to stand guard over the _Pleiades_ along with Fox and Falco's Arwings, while Peppy stayed inside the shuttle waiting for their teammates to update them on the comlink and going over the data he'd managed to extract from the holodiscs. Personally, he didn't really know how much help _he _could do if StarWolf showed up. Even though the thought of getting even with Wolf O'Donnell for chasing him down in Apollo appealed to him (Slippy had taken _so _much pleasure in watching the StarWolf leader scamper away when he showed up in a Landmaster), Slippy had to admit that he was an even worse marksman than he was a pilot. It was hard to disconnect himself from the violence and pretend it was all some WarGame when the things he shot at screamed, fell down and bled. Peppy may have been older (a _lot _older), but at least he was more used to stuff like that.

Then again, it wasn't exactly like he was standing guard alone.

ROB-64 stood a few meters away on the other side of the _Pleiades_, a heavy repeating plasma cannon mounted on his metal shoulder. Slippy knew that ROB was programmed for limited combat and fire support when the occasion called for it, but he'd never actually witnessed the android in action. Apparently, when StarWolf tried to kill Fox over Temple a few months ago, ROB had attempted a search and rescue and ended up getting into a direct fight with Wolf O'Donnell, nearly getting the better of him. Slippy would've _loved _to see that.

He looked the android up and down, noting a few scratches in the droid's metal skin, supposedly made by O'Donnell that Fox had intentionally neglected to repair, feeling that they gave the robot more personality.

ROB had been built and re-built, upgraded and tinkered with so much over the years that writing a cohesive personality program for him was just unfeasible, however Slippy disagreed with the idea that he didn't have a personality of his own. While it was true that he was a very practical, technical and efficient robot, rarely speaking unless spoken to or delivering a status report, Slippy had noticed that ROB could have a very cheeky, maybe even passive-aggressive streak when one really paid attention to what came out of his vocabulator. And even though the android was bound by the three laws of robotics and other protocols written into his program to prevent robots from becoming violent or forming an uprising like in centuries past, Slippy definitely got the vibe that ROB resented being a robot on occasion. Then again, all of these traits could just be unintended glitches in his programming caused by years of refits and upgrades.

Slippy decided to do a test.

"ROB," Slippy called out, "Hey, ROB!"

"**Yes, Slippy?**" The android replied, looking over at him with a glowing red photoreceptor strip.

"I've got a question," Slippy continued.

"**What is your question?**"

"Do you know what a joke is?"

"**The definition of a joke, according to **_**Garfield's Basic Dictionary**_**, is as follows: Both a noun and a verb, a joke is something done or said to provoke laughter or cause amusement, such as a witticism, a short and amusing anecdote, or a prankish act**," ROB droned, "**Would you like to hear the word used in a sentence?**"

Slippy looked off to the side, still unable to decide if ROB was just being a typical, hyper-literal robot, or if there was some sort of derisive undertone to the things he said.

"No, ROB, what I mean is, do you _understand _what a joke means? Not just the definition, but like the concept of humor?" Slippy investigated.

"**Humor is not included in my programming. I would suggest consulting a companion droid on this matter. Better yet, an organic**," ROB answered.

"Even if it's not in your programming, I know you know what _humor _is. You've been around us when Fox or Falco says something that makes us laugh," Slippy remarked.

"**Laughter, written as: Ha, ha, ha, ha. More accurately captured by this recording:**" ROB came back, then proceeded to play a recorded laugh track from some holovision show out of his vocabulator.

Slippy took off his hat and scratched between his eyes, failing to notice the shadow that rushed past the doorway to hangar bay.

"Alright, let's start with something more applied," Slippy said whimsically, "Here's a joke: Why was six afraid of seven?"

ROB stared at him blankly with his red photoreceptor strip, his bottom jaw tilting back and forth for a second.

"**Why was six afraid of** **seven?**"ROB repeated.

"Because seven ate nine," Slippy said simply.

Granted the robot's face didn't have much ability to express emotion to begin with, but Slippy still felt like he was getting a blank stare.

"Do you get it?"

"**Not precisely. Did you mean to recite the numbers seven through nine, or did you mean to say that the number seven devoured number nine, causing six to be afraid of** **seven?**"ROB inquired.

"Both," Slippy smiled, "It's a play on words. That's what makes it funny."

"**Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha**," ROB said in a joyless monotone, "**I may have a proximate understanding of this concept. I have a joke for you, Slippy: Why was six afraid of seven?**"**  
**

Slippy's eyes narrowed in puzzlement as he thought about where this test was going, unaware of the fact that metal hands were hacking a control panel in the corridor outside, slowly gaining control over the magnetic energy shield that prevented all the oxygen (and several other things in the hangar bay) from being violently blown out into the vacuum of space through the large opening that their ships had entered.

"Okay, why was six afraid of seven?" Slippy said, taking the bait.

"**Because seven was a robot**," ROB informed him.

Slippy looked at ROB with a bewildered frown, staring at him awkwardly for a few seconds.

"**You were supposed to laugh**," ROB stated.

"I'm not...sure if you get the idea, ROB," Slippy said slowly, "I'm also not sure it was such a great idea to start this conversation."

"**I have another joke**," ROB announced, "**A male is sitting in a restaurant and receives an order of soup. As the waiter leaves, the male says, ****"W****aiter, waiter. What is this robot doing in my soup?" Do you know what the waiter says?**"

"I'm a little afraid..." Slippy muttered under his breath.

"**He says: It looks like he's performing organic tasks twice as well, because he knows neither fear nor pain,**" ROB answered.

Slippy cringed, and there were a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.

"**Did I mention that the waiter was a robot as well?**" ROB inquired.

"No, but...I don't think it matters," Slippy sighed.

"**Did you not find it amusing?**"

"I think...as far as robots go... you might have some issues," Slippy replied tentatively.

A low, drooping tone could be heard, followed by blaring warning alarm, and suddenly everything went to hell.

The lifeless cold that enveloped Slippy chilled him to his core, but he hardly noticed the temperature as an invisible wall came up and slammed him off his feet, dragging him screaming across the durasteel floor. The roar of rushing air drowned out his screams and the blaster rifle flew out of his hands as Slippy tumbled helplessly across the floor, falling towards the empty blackness of space framed in the large hangar opening like a titanic mouth. He couldn't react, he couldn't think, all he could feel was terror so paralyzing it was almost painful as the wind howled in his ears and his body tumbled and slid past the landing struts of the _Pleiades _towards the edge.

The wind suddenly grew stronger and Slippy left the floor, flying through the air as he continued to scream.

He choked and went silent as strong, steely fingers grabbed him by the collar of his yellow jumpsuit, and he stayed there, tumbling in the gale like a fly caught in a wind tunnel, the tears sucked out of his eyes as his hat flew off his head and tumbled into the void of stars. Slippy continued to choke, strangled in a tug of war between the force pulling him to his death by his ankles and the fingers holding him by the collar. Another hand grabbed him by the white bandolier over his chest, releasing his collar and allowing Slippy to finally see ROB, one arm and both legs wrapped around one of the _Pleiades_' landing struts, the other gripping tight on his bandolier and refusing to let go.

Slippy frantically called out the android's name but the howling wind was too loud, his heart racing as he gasped in panic, feeling dozens of strong, unseen hands dragging him the last few meters into the blackness.

He almost didn't hear the blaring of the alarm over the rushing air, but he did hear the loud metal squeaking of a thick emergency airlock door coming down from the ceiling. There was a thunderous slamming sound as the door sealed off the opening and the hurricane winds suddenly stopped, Slippy dropping to the durasteel floor in a blubbering heap. He was able to get to his hands and knees, hyperventilating with his vision smudged by heavy, terrified tears, and he looked up sniveling as ROB unwrapped himself from the shuttle's landing gear.

"Oh...Oh God...oh God, ROB," Slippy sobbed, "Thank you, thank you thank you thank you so much, oh God..."

"**Are you injured?**" ROB inquired as Slippy cried at his feet.

Slippy shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"I'm...I'm fine..." Slippy whimpered, "Oh God, ROB, you saved me. I take back what I said, you're the best robot ever."

"**Is that a joke, too?**"

Slippy began to laugh uncontrollably on his hands and knees, mostly from the sheer joy of not dying, and as he looked up beaming at ROB, he didn't notice the dark figure with gleaming yellow eyes until it was far too late.

"B-behind you!" Slippy yelped, and as ROB turned the figure behind him swept out its arm in a quick, violent flash. There was a crunch and a high-pitched buzzing sound followed by a gurgling sizzle, and ROB-64's head clattered to the floor in front of Slippy, the red photoreceptor strip going a lifeless black.

A tiny, horrified squeak escaped from Slippy's open mouth, and ROB's metal body collapsed to the floor with a final squirt of sparks gushing out the stump of his neck like arterial spray. Slippy looked up slowly to see an android covered in a dark brownish metal, thick black power cords looping through parts of its skeletal body. It's head was like a skull with a frowning, almost crablike mouth and a pair of slit-like photoreceptors glowing a deep yellow. A long vibroblade extended from the android's wrist, buzzing slightly in the silence.

Slippy let out a paralyzed gasp and fell backwards on his ass, scooting backwards as the android took two steps in his direction.

"**Hmph. A boy and his robot. How **_**trite**_," the skeletal automaton remarked scornfully as it held the vibroblade over Slippy's chest, "**You **_**pathetic **_**organics.**"

The android brought the arm back, aiming the blade at Slippy's heart, and with the loud boom of a high-powered weapon everything below the android's right elbow suddenly blew off.

The droid launched quickly to the side just as another bang sounded and a cloud of energized particles tore into the thick blast door that had closed over the hangar bay opening. The droid took off like a shot, dodging two more blasts and giving an outraged cry of "**AGAIN?**" before it disappeared through the doorway.

Slippy sat there, breathing hard and confused as Peppy Hare stepped out from the shadows under the _Pleiades_, a double-barrel accelerated charged particle scatter gun in his hands, the business end still smoking.

Peppy drew closer, looking down at ROB's headless body as if it were a glass of spilled milk and giving out a laborious sigh, and Slippy finally felt able to catch his breath.

"You still in one piece?" Peppy inquired, and Slippy managed a nod.

"What about bladder control? You still got that?" the rabbit asked, extending a hand.

"Barely," Slippy muttered, taking Peppy's hand as he dragged him up to his feet.

"Where's your gun?" Peppy asked, looking around at the various crates and spent tradium fuel cells that had been scattered around the hangar bay by the depressurization.

"Floating somewhere through Sector Z," Slippy groaned.

"And your hat?" the old rabbit probed with a smile that made his thick whiskers bloom.

"Same story," Slippy replied flatly.

Peppy nodded, looking back down at ROB-64's body, then his discarded head, with bemusement.

"Well, damn, Slippy," he groaned, "I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens."

* * *

The maintenance tunnels in the lowest levels of the _Xerxes _were unlike the gray corridors in the decks above, with surfaces of exposed ferroconcrete and moisture dripping down from the tangle of pipes snaking their way along the cielings. The dim and flickering glowpanels scattered in the ceiling and occasionally on the walls gave the tunnels a rather green tint. Fox followed his progress on the map displayed on the scouter over his eye, his hands gripped snugly around his EE-40, alone save for the sound of his boots scraping across the floors. His green eye watched the dot representing his body making its way through the maze of tunnels, drawing closer to his objective, but his pace was slow and measured, calm. He hadn't encountered anyone else since splitting up with everyone else earlier, part of the reason for his careful pace was the feeling that he was overdue for a run-in with a member of StarWolf. He could feel his bushy tail flitting through the air behind him as he walked, his nose taking in the dank, unpleasant odor of his sewer-like surroundings.

A crackling from his headset was quickly followed by Peppy's hoarse voice, coming over the comm with "Fox, do you read? I've got some bad news."

"Talk to me, Peppy," Fox replied into his microphone, continuing down the tunnel, "What happened?

"We ran into some problems here in the hangar bay," Peppy groused, "The containment field was dropped while Slippy and ROB were out standing guard."

Fox's feet froze to the concrete, his blood running cold with dread before he heard Peppy continue: "They're all right. Slippy's pretty shaken up. Something shut the field off trying to vent them out into space, some sort of battle droid or something; it looked either a Venomian or Fortunan make. Maybe working for StarWolf, I don't know. I managed to chase it off."

"So what's the bad news?" Fox inquired, continuing on and breathing a sigh of relief to hear that Slippy was unharmed.

"ROB got his head chopped off," Peppy answered flatly.

"Damn it. Can Slippy fix him?"

"Not here. It was a clean cut and none of his processors were damaged, but Slippy says he'll need a new joint and coupling in his neck to reattach the head and bring him back online. He says its a pretty quick fix, but the things he needs are in his workshop on the _Great Fox_. Until ROB gets back online, we've got no remote control or contact with the ship aside from comms broadcast."

"We don't have a choice,Fox muttered wearily, "Take the _Pleiades _back to the _Great Fox_, fix ROB and bring him back online. When that's done, we'll figure things out from there. Any news from Falco and Krystal?"

"Krystal got back to us a few minutes ago and said she brought up the shields and life support systems. Haven't gotten anything from Falco, but I'm still getting his vital signs and he's moving towards the engines. Other than the droid we ran into, no news on any of our other friends on the ship," Peppy came back.

"Keep me posted and move fast on repairing ROB, losing ground or momentum can kill us here. Fox out," he spoke into his microphone, quickening his pace into a swift jog down the tunnels.

He turned down two more corners, watching the dot near the star on his map, and looked ahead to see a broad doorway opening up into an expansive room scattered with large pipes and metal crates. As he approached the doorway, Fox spotted another path that, according to his map, led to the turbolift that would take him to the bridge in the ship's command tower. It didn't look as close to the network hub as Slippy had made it sound.

He entered the room, surveying the heavy pipes and the dark metal catwalk running along the walls and overhead. Shallow puddles of murky water could be spotted here and there, and a large brown metal blast door occupied an arching doorway on the opposite side of the room from Fox's entrance. The profusion of metal crates that Fox had seen scattered around the room (as well as much of the ship's open areas that he'd seen) were apparently supplies that the Venomian Army had stocked up on the _Xerxes _before the Battle of Venom and had never been around to unpack afterwards. The wide, concrete room was bathed in the same dim, greenish light that the glowlamps in the tunnels had given off, the whole space looked more to Fox like a place to keep a water reservoir or waste management system than a computer hub.

Then he looked down the length of the room and saw it on a platform at the very end: A triangular prism standing on its end, tall, monolithic and black, venting mists of white coolant gas and stretching from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. A ladder climbed up one of the sides, providing access to multiple service hatches in the side, while a large holographic interface screen was installed at chest-level in the very front. Fox had never seen a computer hub so big, though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised given the size of the _Xerxes _itself and the apparent intricacy of its automation. According to Slippy, the _Xerxes _required only half the crew of most ships of comparable size, and even a small crew working only on the bridge could operate the ship in a limited capacity, all due to the complexity of the computer network. The ship just wouldn't run without the network turned on.

Fox approached the holoscreen, reading the text projected in front of him in bright orange characters:

**Central Network GUI/Command Prompt**

**Default gateway protocol = null**

**FTL = DISABLED**

**NAVCON = DISABLED**

**FIRE CONTROL = DISABLED**

**DAMAGE CONTROL = DISABLED**

**WEAPONS GRID LAN = DISABLED**

**SUBLIGHT/RCS CONTROL = DISABLED**

**POWER CONTROL/DIST = DISABLED**

**DRADIS/RADAR/SENSOR SUITE = DISABLED**

**SHIP COMMS/FLIGHT CONTROL = DISABLED**

**COMMAND LAN = DISABLED**

**MAINT LAN = DISABLED**

**NETWORK FIREWALLS = ENABLED**

**!SHIP NETWORK CLOUD IS OFFLINE! OPTIONS**

Fox selected the bottom icon, watching a flood of numbers and text roll over the screen, then seeing a new selection of icons appear and selecting **REBOOT PROCEDURE **from the list. The screen changed yet again, and he saw the option labeled **USER INTERFACE HELP **in the top right corner and selected it, following the directions that came up to guide him. He followed the steps, disabling the firewalls in order to link together the two supplemental local area networks on the ship, then selected the **ENABLE DEFAULT GATEWAY PROTOCOL** option, seeing a window appear that read **Enabling multiple system networks will require ignition charge from power grid. PUSH TO CHARGE? **Fox pressed the icon, watching glowpanels on the hub computer begin to light up red as a low humming could be heard and multiple exhaust fans inside the machine began to spin.

A new window appeared reading **SYSTEM CHARGED. Proceed to interface system networks into SHIP NETWORK CLOUD. EXECUTE? **

Fox pressed the icon and there was a sudden whirring in energy as the glowpanels flickered more rapidly than before and the hub computer let out a hollow, echoing growl. He looked around as the flickering stopped and the hub quieted down, seeing the text on the holoscreen read **SHIP NETWORK CLOUD is online. Reset system passwords? **

Fox put a hand to his microphone and said, "Peppy, I've just reset the _Xerxes_' network hub. I'm going to head for the command tower so I can start on the money transfer."

"Good job, Fox. Slippy and I are just about to dock with the _Great Fox_ over here, we should be ready once you begin the transfer."

"Affirmative," Fox nodded, looking back to the holoscreen. It would be a good idea, just in case StarWolf made it to the command deck, to enter a system password to lock them out of getting the funds in the ship's electronic vaults. Just as he was thinking of one, he heard a shuffling behind him and he whipped around with his blaster in hand. He saw no movement amongst the ferroconcrete, thick pipes and stacks of crates scattered around the length of the room; there seemed to be nothing that could've produced the sound he'd heard. Fox narrowed his eyes, scanning them from side to side suspiciously as he took a careful step down from the computer platform, and his foot brushed something that scraped lightly across the floor.

He looked down to see a pair of dark, scratched sunglasses reflecting the dull light of the glowpanels above, a dagger-shaped shard missing from the lower part of the left lens. Fox's brow furrowed as he crouched down and picked up the glasses, inspecting them in his left hand. They were just slightly old-fashioned pilot's style sunglasses, and despite the wear and tear it didn't look like they'd been worn in a long time. His eyes widened as Fox realized that he knew these shades, by the pair of pale blue eyes that they used to cover. It couldn't be.

Aside from the Cornerian Flight Academy badge that Fox still wore pinned to the lapel of his white jacket, no trace of James McCloud had ever made it off Venom, not even his trademark sunglasses. There was only one way they could be here now, only one _person _that could've had them all these years, and Fox's paw closed angrily around the sunglasses as his jaw tightened with disdain.

Fox could almost smell him, hiding somewhere in the room, as he calmly slid the sunglasses into a pocket on his flight suit and gripped his blaster in both hands.

"Cheap. Tacky, even. After all I've been through, especially from you Wolf, did you _really _think this would get to me?" Fox demanded confidently to the room, listening close for sounds of movement.

"Nah, not really," the lupine's harsh voice drawled from seemingly everywhere, "Just thought ya' deserved a consolation prize, since you're walkin' away from this job empty-handed."

"Don't count your stars before you reach them," Fox chided bluntly, his footsteps light and quiet as he crept forward.

"I dunno, I'm feelin' pretty confident. How 'bout yourself, McCloud? Feelin' positive? I know I wouldn't if I was goin' crazy an' my ex fuckbuddy was makin' it worse."

Fox breathed deeply and tried to calm the pent-up anger.

"You don't know _me_, Wolf," he whispered.

"Well, it ain't for lack of tryin'. Guess we'll just hafta' settle this like we always do," Wolf growled.

"Your choice," Fox returned.

"Your funeral."

The scraping sound of a heavy boot against the ferroconcrete behind him alerted Fox, and he spun around just in time to see Wolf coming out from behind a stack of crates, bayonet-tipped blaster pistol in hand. He lunged to the side, bringing up his pistol as Wolf shot a glob of neon green plasma past his shoulder. The plasma bolt plowed into the wall with a burst of green flame as two red needles flashed out of Fox's EE-40 and pounded into Wolf's narcium shoulder plating, throwing him backwards with a grunt of surprise.

Fox jammed his blaster back into the holster and sprinted at the disoriented Wolf, launching into a flying kick to Wolf's chest that slammed the lupine against a stack of metal crates and sent his blaster pistol skittering across the floor. The StarFox leader leapt over to his enemy, throwing a left hook to Wolf's glowing blue implant that he blocked with a gauntleted fist, then a right jab to the scruffy white snout. Wolf caught Fox's forearm with his right hand and dug his claws into Fox's chest with his left, eliciting a cry of pain as Wolf spun him around and thrust him up against the crates. The lupine's claws came out of Fox's chest and his hand snapped around his neck, reddening Fox's fur with his own blood and choking the air off from his lungs as Wolf shoved him further up the crate's metal side, lifting him off his feet. Fox gagged loudly and beat both hands against Wolf's elbow to dislodge the murderous mercenary's grip, but Wolf only grunted and slugged Fox hard in the gut. He let out an even louder choked-out cry, Wolf's fingers tightening so hard Fox's eyeballs felt like they might pop out, and Fox coiled up his legs and throttled them into Wolf's chest. The lupine's grip released and he flew backwards as Fox slid down the side of the crates and landed hard on his ass, grimacing as he came into a crouching position. Wolf was still struggling to regain balance as Fox came up and drove his fist right into his nose, the room echoing with the fleshy impact and a yip of pain as Wolf fell onto his back. Fox yelled out as he lifted his leg and brought down an axe kick to Wolf's face, but he rolled to the side and Fox's heel smashed into ferroconcrete. The lupine was on all fours, letting out a feral snarl before pouncing forward as Fox drew his blaster. A shot pierced the room as Wolf grabbed Fox's gun and tore it out of his hand, throwing it across the room and landing a strike to Fox's collar bone. Fox coughed and stepped back, dodging under a swipe from Wolf's claws before blocking his arm away and throwing a knifehand strike at his throat. Wolf caught it, shoved him back and swiped claws again, leaping forward with a spiked kneepad thrust up. Fox sidestepped and whirled around as Wolf flew past, just in time to catch Wolf's elbow in his jaw.

He cried out in pain and staggered away, opening his eyes to see Wolf come at him with a hard right punch. Fox deflected the punch with his forearm and Wolf twisted around to kick him in the ribs, throwing Fox further back where he tripped over a length of exposed piping. He looked up from the ground to see Wolf running for his blaster on the floor, and Fox leapt to his feet, taking off for his own gun lying on the ferroconcrete. He lunged through the air the last meter or so, coming down and scooping up his pistol, rolling into a ready position and pulling the trigger as Wolf brought up his.

The space rang with the sound of two particle beam weapons being fired, a red bolt and a green glob that missed their respective targets and burned into the reinforced walls with a sizzle.

Wolf and Fox found themselves at each end of a clearing in the room, their guns leveled at one another's face. The silence of the room belied the tension between the two canids, and Fox slowly rose to his feet, blaster still trained on Wolf.

"Well, here we are again," Wolf smirked, "How many times is this, now?"

"Too many," Fox replied icily, "It's getting old."

"So are we," Wolf shrugged, "I know this makes _me_ feel young."

They glared at each other, circling the edge of the clearing with their guns trained on each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Fox sneered, his muzzle wrinkling at the spectacle of it all, and he decided to say something.

"Wolf."

"_Fox?_"

"There's something I've always wondered. Just between the two of us... how ever _did_ you lose the eye?"

Wolf grinned and his optical implant seemed to glow an even brighter blue as he came to a stop, his back to the large blast door across the room.

"Huh-huh," Wolf chuckled darkly, "It's kind of a funny story, actually. I was-"  
The hissing sound of the blast door sliding open across the room cut Wolf off, and time slowed to a crawl as the hulking, muscular, three-meter tall form of Edgar Suchos stepped into the room wearing a pair of ragged combat pants, a stretched white tank top and a brown trenchcoat with the sleeves torn off to expose his thick, scaly arms. Wolf looked behind to behold the massive crocodilian at nearly the same time as Fox, and Edgar's yellow eyes lit up with fury as his jaws fell open to expose a mouth of jagged teeth. He stared at them both for what felt to Fox like a full sixty seconds, then suddenly Wolf was running past Fox toward a pile of crates, and that was when he saw the shortened heavy blaster rifle in the reptile's hands.

Fox whipped around and sprinted towards a thick expanse of pipe stretching along the length of the room, already hearing the popping sound of automatic blaster fire. The chronograph sped back up as Fox flipped himself over the piping and took cover behind it, the shots deafening in the room as thick crimson laser bolts sprayed through the air, tearing into the floors, the walls, the crates and the piping around the room with bursts of sparks and smoke. The bombastic, squeaking pop sounds cracked around the walls as red blaster bolts seared around everything, and Fox tried to make himself as small a target as possible when the barrage suddenly came to a stop with the only sound being the faint hiss of red-hot metal and smoking ferroconcrete.

"Hullo, boys," Edgar Suchos growled, "Remember me?"

* * *

The air crackled with a flash of purple sparks as Leon caught Kursed's electrostaff between the X of his crossed fighting blades, pushing the staff away with his left knife and stabbing at her with his right. Kursed blocked with the lower end of her staff, deflecting upwards before bringing it down for a strike to the chameleon's knee and Leon dove through the air, over the strike and rolling once across the floor. She spun and charged at him as he shot up from a crouching position, the blades of the daggers smashing hard into the center of her staff. They looked into each other for a split second, intense soulless turquoise locking with empty heartless yellow, and Kursed felt the screaming of blood and steel in his mind, the primal nothing inside Leon that would be placated by her death.

Kursed yelled in revolt as she pushed Leon away with a hard shove upwards, swinging the bottom end and then the top of her staff out in a wide arc in front of her then spun the electrostaff in a blur of shiny titanium and purple sparks to keep the reptile at a distance. She would _not _let him make a victim of _her. _

"Are you _finished_?" Leon sighed in a bored tone, lazily spinning the trident-like fighting blades in his hands, alternating between the holding the dagger by the handle and spinning it by one of the guard prongs so that the pommel pointed outwards and the central blade was laid flat against the inside of his forearm. Several times during their fight, Leon had shown an adeptness at blocking her blows and stunning her with a hit from the pommel while holding the blade in this second position, only to quickly spin the dagger back into first position for a killing stab. The dexterity with which Leon wielded his fighting blades and the difficulty in reading his thoughts to anticipate his moves made this the most difficult fight Kursed could remember being in. She remembered that she still had her pistols if things got too intense, but no matter what the fatigue she'd built up along with the cuts she'd already received would hamper her movement. Leon, even after taking a handful of shocks from her electrostaff, looked fresh as he'd been at the beginning of their fight.

Kursed pinched the button on the side of the staff, twisting it to dial up the power setting as even thicker purple arcs of electricity began to leap excitedly from the emitters. Then she spun it back into ready position and narrowed her eyes at the reptile.

Leon's long tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked the corner of his upper lip, then the chameleon burst forward spinning his fighting blades. Kursed stepped forward to meet him with an overhead strike that Leon blocked with his right dagger then he stabbed at her with his left. The vixen shrank back and whipped the bottom end of the staff at Leon's waist but he stepped back and met the strike with his dagger, catching it in the side guard and heaving it up, over his head and to the other side, twisting Kursed so that her back was exposed to him. She dove into the transparisteel floor, feeling the tip of Leon's blade scratch into the armorweave covering her back before she rolled into a crouching position and blocked as both of the reptile's daggers smashed into her staff. Kursed came up to her feet, putting her back into driving against Leon's blades, sweeping off of them and striking into the block that Leon put up over his forearm. She thrust with the top end in rapid succession, yelling with intensity as Leon blocked the jabs to his face, chest, shoulder and knees, then she feinted a jab at his stomach that Leon deflected, opening her to lash the bottom end up at his face. The chameleon threw himself backwards, the sparking emitter whizzing under his chin as he rolled into a back handspring about a meter away, and Kursed charged towards him, stabbing her staff into the ground with a pop of sparks and vaulting into an aerial kick at his chest.

Leon swept to the side and Kursed switched her hand positions as her feet touched the ground, using her momentum to swing a powerful side-strike at her enemy's body. Leon's left block absorbed the strike and Kursed rapidly struck one, two three times into Leon's upper body with the top part of the staff, bringing the bottom end into a strike at his hip, then whirling the top end back into a strike at the opposite shoulder, each time meeting a block from one or both of his daggers. On the last block Leon locked the side guards of both daggers around the middle of her staff and dragged down, pulling Kursed off balance, then his right weapon shot forward and he punched her in the breast with the pommel. She grunted loudly in pain and drew back her arm as the dagger spun around in Leon's hand so the blade was facing up, then she drove her elbow in between his eyes before he could stab her in the heart. Leon's head jerked back and he staggered a step or two, and Kursed leapt at him to bring the staff down on his face. He blocked quickly, meeting the strike and deflecting it downwards as he spun, whipping the floor in front of her loudly with his tail before facing her and slashing with both daggers at her shoulder. Kursed shoved the blow away and stepped around to get an angle at his back, swinging the blade over her head and downwards at the back of his knee. Leon met it with his right dagger and they both spun around, Leon raising his blades over his head as Kursed fell into a crouch and jabbed forward with the bottom of her staff. As Leon was about to bring his blades down on her, Kursed's staff caught him in the breastplate, jabbing into his black stealth suit with an echoing bang and a flash of light.

Leon shrieked and flew backwards, nearly collapsing over a metal storage crate before his tail wrapped around the corner of another crate and stopped him, but that was all the opening Kursed needed. She tore at him and cocked the staff over her shoulder, swinging as she came up to the chameleon's stunned form. In a black-green blur he leapt to her right side as her electrostaff smashed into the metal crate with a burst of white light, landing in a crouch and stabbing at her side with the blade held downwards. She twisted the bottom end of the staff and caught his strike a moment too late, hitting the center of the blade and feeling a cold sting as it sliced through the armorweave on her upper thigh. Kursed jabbed the bottom end of the staff at his face and he rolled away, shooting to his feet and catching a downward strike between his daggers, shoving her staff away and flipping the daggers to the block-stun position with the blades against his forearms.

She spaced out her grip on the staff and put her shoulders to work, rapidly striking left, right, left, right with each end of the staff as if she were paddling a kayak, Leon meeting each strike with a loud crash of metal and electricity. He tried to catch her staff on the fourth strike, but Kursed pulled back and whirled the staff so the top end aimed at Leon, lunging forward into a jab. He caught the jab and sent it upwards but the bottom end swung up at his face like a pendulum and he tried to block with the other blade but his aim was just slightly off. The emitter at the bottom end brushed against Leon's forearm with a satisfying buzz that made the reptilian yelp and dart back, hopping over Kursed's sweep at his ankles. The chameleon touched the ground as Kursed brought the staff in a downward strike, pressing her advantage. When the top of her staff met Leon's block, she quickly shifted the momentum and swung the bottom end rapidly back up underneath his arms, and he had to take another step backwards in order to block the quick strike. She swept the top end back down, forcing him to block up again, then slid the electrostaff out of the block and jabbed at his chest again. Leon knocked the jab away with his right blade and lunged to Kursed's left, slicing with the blade in his left hand. She knocked his hand away with the middle of her staff, blocking as he sliced at her with his right blade, then the left again, the steel whistling in the air.

The vixen swung out at him and Leon flipped the blades over in his hands, blocking with his right blade then catching her staff in the guard prong of his left. The pommel of Leon's right blade nailed Kursed's jaw with a loud, fleshy thump and she cried out loud as she tasted blood in her mouth. She smothered the pain, working through it and forcing her eyes open to see Leon spin the blade back over and slice at her face. Kursed jerked her head back as the blade swept over her nose, slicing a lock of azure hair free from her head, and she drove her fist into Leon's exposed stomach. The chameleon coughed and stumbled back, Kursed howling with fury as she whirled the staff at him. She thrust rapidly at his upper body, working into a routine of striking at his chest, shoulder, head, then chest again, getting Leon into the pattern of blocking her attacks. He shoved away one final strike at his shoulder with an energized cry, then Kursed dropped down and smacked the bottom end of the staff into his shin with a loud sizzle. Leon yelled and hopped back, swinging down with his daggers as Kursed shot up, met his strike with the bottom of her staff and jabbed his stomach with the center, cocking the staff over her right shoulder. Even Leon wasn't quick enough to dodge the blow, and the emitter on the staff connected with Leon's shoulder and upper arm with an echoing pow that sent him tumbling into a metal crate with a scream.

Kursed grinned triumphantly through gasps of breath, blinking the sweat out of her eyes as she flourished her electrostaff and spat blood out of her mouth.

Leon grunted and came to his feet with his fighting blades still in hand, his shoulder smoking lightly. One of his pale yellow eyes was twitching with irritation, and a faint welt was forming above his nostrils. He no longer looked collected or fresh.

"Ouch," was all Leon said before flying at her again in a dark blur.

Kursed swung her staff, hearing a crash of metal against metal and seeing Leon materialize from the blur, blocking the strike with his right blade and catching it in the guard prong. He slid his dagger down the length of the staff, jabbing Kursed in the stomach with the pommel of his left blade and knocking the wind out of her. As she gasped, Leon hooked her wrist in a side guard of his left blade and tore one of her hands off the staff, then flipped the blade over and locked the guard prong around the other side of the electrostaff. With a swift, grunting movement, Leon levered the staff out of her arms, tossing it across the transparisteel floor then whirling back around and punching her in the chest with the pommel of his right dagger.

Kursed let out a pained moan as she stumbled backwards and fell on her back, hearing Leon's high-pitched chuckles as he stepped calmly towards her. She gritted her teeth and sprang up into a sitting position, a DC-15 heavy blaster in her hand. Almost faster than she could percieve, Leon shrank backwards and dove to the left as she pulled the trigger, a blue blaster bolt streaking past his elbow. As he fell to the ground, she saw his right hand flap forward with a glint of steel and Kursed rolled to the side as the long fighting blade smashed into the transparisteel where she once sat. She came up into a crouch, both her blasters drawn as Leon came up on his knees with his own blaster in his right hand. Kursed stayed low and rushed for cover behind the artificial gravity generator column, firing both of her pistols blindly as she and Leon filled the space with blue and green blaster bolts. The firing stopped as soon as she was behind the generator column, and she pointed a gun to either side of the machinery in case he tried to rush her.

Kursed caught her breath and stood up slowly, looking down at the holographic touch-screen terminal in front of her, noticing the icon reading **ARTIFICIAL GRAVITY: Omotanium GC stable, systems nominal. SYSTEM TEST?**

"So I guess things just got too _real_ and you had to bring out the guns, didn't you?" Leon remarked haughtily.

"Something like that," Kursed breathed, pressing the icon and hoping it would give her an edge. The screen changed to read **Artificial gravity system test will cycle for 10 minutes. Please make sure the room is clear of all heavy or fragile objects and leave the room. System test will run in 10...9...**

"Well, it's going to end pretty quick after this," Leon sighed, his footsteps padding lightly on the transparisteel floor. Kursed breathed hard through her nose, looking in both directions for any signs of movement as the numbers counted down.

"We'll see," Kursed replied as the numbers reached zero.

There was a sluggish tone added to the humming of the artificial gravity generator, and Kursed felt a sinking feeling in her gut and a rush of blood around her body as her feet suddenly floated off the ground along with every other object in the room. She heard Leon giving off exclamations of confusion and surprise as the metal crates all around the room began to slowly rise into the air, tumbling and banging against each other like a field of cubical metal asteroids. For the next ten minutes of the artificial gravity system test, everything in the room was in a constant state of zero-g freefall.

Kursed drifted around the side of the generator column, seeing Leon twisting through the air in between a pair of metal crates, and they suddenly locked eyes.

"Cute," he spat as his blaster came up.

Kursed kicked off the side of the generator column and thrust her blasters forward, pulling the triggers as she sailed through the air and blue blaster bolts flashed through the air. Green bolts from Leon's pistol flashed over her head and past her face, and for the first time Kursed realized how hard difficult it was to aim in zero gravity. She looked up to see a tumbling metal crate coming up fast and she realized that she had no idea how to stop herself, so she twisted out of the way of one of the rolling corners and grabbed onto another, pulling herself close to the crate. She managed to come to some sort of stop, but now the crate was spinning around with her on it, and she was feeling dizzy.

Kursed got a glimpse of Leon floating across the room, having similar problems, and she shoved one of her pistols into the holster, figuring a free hand would be more use right now than an extra gun. The crate rotated back around and she leveled her gun, watching a blue bolt flash past Leon's shoulder. The chameleon whipped around and began firing, green blaster bolts streaking through the air overhead, but by that time the crate had spun and Kursed was no longer exposed. One of the bolts hit the crate she was holding on to almost dead center with a burst of sparks, and suddenly the crate stopped spinning and began to fly softly backwards in the direction of the bolt's momentum.

She pushed off from the crate with her feet and gripped onto another, much more stable one, catching her breath and gathering her bearings. She was beginning to get the hang of this. She brandished her blaster in search of the chameleon, spotting a glimpse of him as he floated between two crates. She shot one of them and the crate spun off into the wall, exposing the chameleon's back. Kursed fired, just missing as Leon turned over and returned fire, hitting a crate floating next to hers and making it tumble upwards towards the ceiling.

The reptile disappeared behind another crate before Kursed could get a good shot, and she growled with frustration. There was a grunt of effort from across the room, and Kursed saw a large metal crate sailing through the air on a collision course with hers. She shot the crate and hit one of the corners, watching it spin and slow down slightly but still headed in her direction. The vixen pushed off her crate and floated through the air, just as the missile smashed into her former hand-hold.

"Sit still, you bitch," Leon growled, unseen. He seemed to be getting the hang of things, too, maybe faster than her.

There was a grunt from Leon, followed by another, and Kursed saw two more crates sailing towards her location. She positioned herself to push off from the crate, then a green blaster bolt pounded into the corner of her crate, spinning it wildly. Kursed held on with a grunt, trying to orient herself as her azure hair floated wildly around her scalp and she suddenly saw the two crates practically on her. She tried to shove off, not strong enough, as one of the crates collided into hers and hit her foot, sending her tumbling head over heels without direction. She moaned with effort as she struggled to come to some sort of stop, but there was nothing to grab onto and the shadow of the large metal crate fell on her.

Kursed threw her arms around her face and felt a burst of agony rock her body as the crate plowed into her shoulderblade and spun her even more. She felt her blaster slip out of her hand as she cried out, kicking her legs and finding her uncontrollable spin begin to slow as Leon cruised through the air towards her, a smile on his face and a fighting blade in his fist.

Kursed kicked her feet more, feeling the spin stop and then something silver shimmered through the air and embedded itself in her arm. She yelled and tore the throwing knife out of her bicep with gritted teeth, watching the blood bubble out of her wound and float in tiny dark globes around her. She felt herself slowly turn and Leon was right there, thrusting his blade into her.

"No!" Kursed shouted, grabbing his forearm, but she felt a cold, paralyzing sensation as the blade sunk into her abdomen. The vixen let out a pained scream and pushed against Leon's arm as he tried to shove the blade deeper into her, their bodies tumbling through the air as agony traveled up Kursed's body. With a deep-throated bellow she kicked into Leon's chest, feeling the blade slide out of her guts as she sailed backwards and the reptile pitched wildly towards the ceiling.

Kursed moaned, wheezing and clutching the hole in her side, watching globes of her blood bubble out between her fingers and leave a misty trail in her wake. She turned to see where she was headed and pain soared up her chest, an anguished gurgle erupting from her jaws. Through squinted eyes she saw herself coming up to a crate, and she extended a hand, grabbing on and starting to spin with it, letting go and traveling further towards the ground. She could see the doorway leading out of the room getting closer.

Above, Leon grunted with effort and fired off a few more shots, green lasers flashing through the air around her, but she managed to find cover behind an assortment of crates nearby. The chameleon kept firing, hitting random boxes as he searched to finish her off, and Kursed saw the doorway less than a few meters away. She was almost there.

She ground her teeth and pressed her hand against the wound, feeling it grow warm and wet with her own blood as the extra came floating out in perfect tiny spheres. Kursed moaned in the pain and launched herself towards the doorway, watching it come close as Leon's sounds of effort became more agitated.

As she crossed the threshold of the doorway, Kursed felt the weight returning to her shoulders and she collapsed to her knees on the corridor floor, blood oozing between her fingers and running down the armorweave of her leg. Kursed dragged herself to her feet, her face contorted with strain and her mouth producing involuntary moans of anguish. Back in the room, she could hear Leon ranting as he twisted himself in a struggle to push towards the doorway in pursuit of her, and he let out an outraged roar as she began to limp down the corridor.

"You better run, you fucking bitch, I'm coming for you!" Leon howled, and though Kursed heard him and knew what would happen if he caught her, it felt like he was yelling from across an uncrossable river or a canyon without a bridge. Other things seemed slightly more pressing to her as she stumbled and limped, groaning and moaning down the hall with dark drops of blood trailing behind her. She had to find a sickbay or supplies or something, even without the more superficial cuts on her body she knew she was losing a dangerous amount of blood.

Kursed shook the dizziness out of her head and willed herself down the hall, clinging to life even as it seeped through her fingers.

* * *

Fox's fingers gripped hard around the handle of his blaster, breathing hard in anxiety. Of all the people he'd expected to see again today, the enormous crocodile from Club Glamorama wasn't one of them.

"If ya boys don't remember me, it's not a problem," Edgar Suchos shrugged as he stomped across the ferroconcrete, "I remember you, and that's all that matters."

Wolf had almost entirely left Fox's mind as he glanced around from his cover behind the large piping, looking for an alternate escape route or something he could use as a weapon against Edgar. The doorway that he'd entered through was perhaps five meters in front of him, but Fox wouldn't make it half that distance before the crocodilian's blaster rifle tore him to shreds. He looked down at his EE-40 blaster pistol, effective against most personnel targets, and remembered how it didn't even slow down Edgar's charge back in Apollo.

He glanced over the rim of the piping to see Edgar calmly stepping towards their hiding places, blaster rifle in hand, then there was a feral growl and a thick glob of green plasma soared across the room and hit the crocodilian in the chest. Edgar grunted and stumbled to the side, then brought up his rifle and sprayed a hail of red blaster bolts in the direction of the shot, squeaking pops chattering through the air, then he worked a pump-action mechanism attached under the barrel of the rifle and fired a smoking projectile. A piercing explosion tore through the room, leaving a ringing in Fox's ears as a cloud of black smoke billowed up to the ceiling and shards of metal debris clanked across the floor. Another plasma bolt flashed into Edgar's chest and he growled, unleashing another barrage, and Fox suddenly saw Wolf take cover behind a nearby pile of crates.

"Huh. Mine's bigger," Edgar chuckled as he stopped firing, "But go ahead. Fight. Gonna end the same way."

Fox made a hissing noise as he looked towards Wolf, attracting the StarWolf leader's attention with an almost annoyed glare. He used hand signals to suggest to Wolf that they would have a better chance of surviving if they worked together to bring the crocodile down. Wolf's brow furrowed in confusion, then he frowned and indignantly gave Fox the middle finger. Fox made a desperate, aggravated face and spread his arms palms-up as if to say that there wasn't any other choice. The StarWolf mercenary rolled a hard lavender eye, shaking his head in bemusement.

"Alright, time to come out an' play," Edgar snarled, "Or else I hafta come over and getcha."

Fox could hear the reptile's large footsteps drawing closer and his green eyes grew wider in agitation, gesturing at Wolf and pointing at the reflector device strapped to his belt.

Wolf's ears twitched and his eye narrowed, Fox seemed to have his attention. As Edgar's feet stomped closer to his hiding place, Fox pointed to himself, then to his reflector, then pointed at Wolf and made a gun with his fingers, pointing through the pipe in the general direction of Edgar. Fox then gestured back and forth from himself to Wolf, hoping the StarWolf leader understood. Wolf nodded slowly, readying his blaster and Fox exhaled.

Even with his reflector activated, it couldn't redirect too many hits from a high-powered rifle like that before shorting out. If he and Wolf _alternated_, however, taking turns between reflecting and shooting, they might have a chance before Edgar caught on. It was better than nothing, at least.

He didn't know if he could trust Wolf, he didn't even know if Wolf understood the plan, but there wasn't any time. Fox could see the crocodilian's hulking shadow pass over the floor in front of the piping. He breathed, possibly his last, and stood up to face the reptile. Edgar Suchos looked down at Fox from almost two meters above, a smile forming on his toothy jaws.

"Peek-a-boo," Edgar rumbled as he brought up the rifle, and Fox's hand flew to his reflector.

A hexagonal blue shield of energy flashed in front of Fox as the crocodilian fired, red beams lancing into the reflector field only to bounce right back into Edgar's chest with a burst of sparks. The crocodilian wailed and stumbled backwards, ceasing fire as the shield faded away, then a green plasma bolt pounded into Edgar's scales and knocked him onto his side. A furious roar escaped from Edgar's mouth and he swept the blaster rifle back up firing at Wolf's position as the pinkish energy field of his reflector enveloped him, bouncing all of the crimson blaster bolts back to sender. The beams tore into the ferroconcrete all around Edgar and pounded into his supine form, and Fox took aim with his pistol as Wolf took cover, quickly firing four shots into the crocodilian's underarm. Edgar bellowed with rage as Fox took cover, looking over at Wolf and giving the thumbs-up. Wolf stared at him dryly and they both heard Edgar snarling ferociously as he brought himself up from the ground.

"You bastards wanna play it like that?" Edgar thundered, his voice sounding more guttural and primitive by the word, "Fine, then. Your little flashlight things don't hurt _me_. It's more like a _tickle_. So what do I need _this _for?"

There was the sound of a heavy blaster rifle getting thrown to the ground, and Fox was suddenly struck with the idea that this was somehow bad.

"Ain't a croc alive that needs his meat cooked for 'im, but I'll take a little help when it comes to cuttin' you lot into smaller chunks," Edgar hissed, his trenchcoat billowing as he grunted, "This is just like what _they_ would've wanted. Maybe you'll remember 'em after I show you enough pieces of yourselves."

Fox glanced over the pipe to see a long chainsword more than a meter and a half long in Edgar's monstrous hands, the trenchcoat and the blaster rifle abandoned at his feet and a crazed, hungry look in his eyes. Fox's eyes grew wide with terror as the curving teeth of the chainsword began to run with a mad buzzing sound, and both he and Wolf bolted through the wide doorway and into the dim maintenance tunnels as Edgar roared after them. They ran side by side, panting loudly and pumping their arms as the chainsword buzzed behind, swerving down the path that led to the command tower turbolift.

The clearance of the doorway to the tunnel was about two and a half meters tall, something that Edgar didn't seem to notice as he tried to chase them down through it only for his shoulders and face to slam into the ferroconcrete bordering the entrance. His primeval howls echoed down the tunnel after them, and Wolf glanced back and remarked, "He sounds fuckin' pissed!"

"You set his brother on fire," Fox came back, trying to pick up the pace.

"Ya shot the _other_ one!" Wolf retorted, sprinting to catch up.

"You set his brother on _fire_," Fox repeated as Edgar wriggled through the doorway and galloped down the tunnel in pursuit.

Edgar's stomps behind echoed off the tunnel walls, magnifying them to the point that Fox was getting shades of the RedEye on Sauria. The chainsaw buzzed to life behind them and Wolf pulled out his pistol, blasting one, two, three shots down the tunnel, hitting Edgar's upper chest and causing him to stagger backwards slightly.

For some reason that he couldn't explain, Fox grabbed Wolf by the arm and dragged him into a sprint, yelling, "Less shooting, more running!"

"GONNA KILL YOU DEADER THAN DOG MEAT!" Edgar bellowed down the tunnel, his chainsword revving up and producing a terrifyingly loud grinding, chipping sound as he angrily smashed it into the walls in his pursuit.

As Wolf and Fox came up to a hard left turn in the tunnel, Fox spotted a thick red pipe running against the wall labeled STEAM/HEAT MAIN DO NOT TOUCH!, and he yanked out his pistol as they tore around the turn, stopping for a moment to whip around, line up his shot and pray this worked.

A thin red blaster bolt flashed from the end of Fox's gun into the pipe, and there was a sudden whistle as a thick jet of white steam billowed out of the new hole.

He turned back around and raced down the tunnel after Wolf, soon hearing the angry, agonized screams of Edgar Suchos running into a geyser of superheated steam. The tunnel began to slope down, and as Fox caught up with Wolf he heard the lupine growl, "So, ya' gotta plan yet?"

"I'm sticking with don't let him catch us," Fox returned, gasping in a breath. The slope of the tunnel leveled out and they came to a doorway that opened into a large room practically walled with thick black pipes. At the end of the path, there was a ladder that led perhaps fifteen meters up onto a platform, where Fox could just see the tube of a turbolift shaft leading up into the ceiling.

"So what are we gonna do when there's nowhere left ta' run?" Wolf muttered.

The roars of Edgar Suchos and the revving motor of his chainsword reverberated out of the tunnel at them, growing louder by the second.

Fox looked frantically from side to side and spotted a computer panel on the doorway that they'd passed under, and he ran over to it and quickly scanned the options. He pressed a button and a heavy brown metal door slammed shut over the doorway.

"There's no lock," Fox breathed nervously.

"Lemme see," Wolf growled, pushing Fox aside and scanning over the panel.

"Yeah, this one doesn't lock," the lupine snarled angrily, "Can't even hack tha' fucker."

They heard an enraged wail from the other side of the door, then a loud bang as a massive fist cracked into it.

"Climb," Wolf ordered, running over to the ladder with Fox close behind.

As Wolf grabbed onto the rungs, Fox nearly tripped over a short length of chain on the floor, then looked back at the door and breathed heavily, coming to a revelation.

"He's going to open that door before we climb up. He'll get us while we're waiting on the turbolift," Fox stated quietly, looking at the door then at Wolf, "Go. I'll keep him busy as long as I can."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Wolf demanded, looking back at him with outrage.

"It's either one of us or both of us, Wolf, and _he _wants both," Fox replied, "Go now. While there's still a chance."

Wolf's eye scrolled angrily from the door to Fox and back, gritting his sharp canine teeth.

"Fuckin' Cub-Scout," Wolf snapped as he swiftly climbed from rung to rung up the ladder.

Fox watched his rival ascend as the pounding on the door grew more forceful, and he thought it a funny way for their relationship to end. In the back of his mind, Fox had a hope that, if he died so that Wolf could escape, it would be enough to inspire Wolf to turn over a new leaf. Or at the very least Fox hoped that it would stay with him for the rest of his life, a kind of final victory for Fox.

The thoughts of his petty rivalry with Wolf, his desperate attempts to win Krystal back and rebuild his team and strike it rich on an impossible mission for the CSB, it all slid away and left Fox feeling it was somehow fitting that he die like this, ripped apart by an unstoppable juggernaut that he'd been running from. Just like he'd been running from the reality that the "legendary" Fox McCloud died long ago, leaving him a shadow struggling to repair a life he'd destroyed in a world that had forgotten him.

The cruel truth was pounding on his door, just like Edgar Suchos on the door in front of him, and neither would wait long before bursting through to finish him off.

Fox inhaled, exhaled, and he was calm, thinking back to the vague memories of his mother, the serenity of meditating next to his father, the warm feeling of Krystal's body against him, and how it was all gone. Horrible things had happened to Fox, and he'd let himself make even more horrible choices in the aftermath.

He felt the fur prickling into moist needles on the back of his neck, his skin wrapping painfully tight around the muscles underneath. His heart began to surge and his lungs automatically sucked in more air, his stomach turning over rebelliously in his gut. The exposed concrete began to writhe as if it were the flesh of a huge gray beast, the thick pipes on the walls slithering languidly like a sea of lethargic eels.

There was an instinct that told Fox to fight it, to struggle against the oncoming flashback, but that hadn't worked so well in the past, so he simply controlled his breathing and let it envelop him. He stilled himself, even as the room breathed and churned around him. With a mechanical whine the brown door slid up into the ceiling, and a hulking monster covered in blackish-green plates with glowing yellow eyes glared out at him from the darkness, stepping under the doorway and brandishing a long sword with a row of wickedly curved teeth.

The creature's growls were deep and hellish and they rumbled Fox to his core, sulfuric smoke steaming out of the daemon's jaws as he thumped down the path towards him. The monster snorted something so guttural at Fox that he couldn't understand, so he tuned it out and concentrated on his breathing.

_I pushed Krystal away because I was afraid to lose someone so close to me_, Fox told himself, _I have to accept that she might never forgive me for it. I pushed Peppy, Falco and Slippy away because I couldn't deal with myself. Even though they have always been my _family_. _

The monster stomped closer, leering down at him curiously with shining yellow orbs. Fox stared into the eyes of his doom with a placid, almost welcoming expression on his face.

_Things have changed. Lylat has changed, so have I and my team_. _I have to accept that I may not be the hero everyone wants anymore, and maybe I never was. In the end it doesn't matter if I'm a hero or if I have her, because I have my family, and we will be _together_. Hero or not, I know who _I _am. I am Fox McCloud, and what ever else changes, one thing doesn't: I will never give up. _

_And that's why this doesn't scare me anymore. _

Like a warm breeze passing through his fur, Fox could feel his skin loosening to a comfortable degree, the hair on his body relaxing as his stomach settled. The breathing walls hardened into ferroconcrete, the slithering eels stiffened into thick industrial pipes, and the black hellspawn before him became a slightly puzzled Edgar Suchos with a massive chainsword in his hand. Fox exhaled with a relieved smile, which turned into a frown as the crocodilian raised the chainsword.

"Time to die," Edgar snarled, and the chainsword revved to life as he brought it down. Fox leapt to the side and the chainsword shredded into the concrete floor with a high-pitched grinding, Edgar giving off a growling bark as Fox swept back and picked up the short length of chain on the floor, a crazy idea in his brain. He stretched the chain between his hands, the links clinking together as he glowered at Edgar and shouted, "Come at me!"

Edgar roared and brought the chainsword up as he lunged, slashing outwards. Fox rolled forward as the sword buzzed over him, shearing into a metal pipe, and he looped the chain through his belt as the crocodilian spun angrily to face him. Edgar swung the sword in a wide arc meant to cut the vulpine in half as Fox sprang through the air, rolling as the chainsword revved underneath him. He landed back down on the ground with his teeth clenched tightly, waiting for Edgar to give him the perfect moment. The crocodilian bellowed and cocked the sword over his shoulder, revving it up and lunging forward, swinging as Fox hopped back out of reach. Edgar moaned and swung the sword in a quick downward arc at Fox's feet and the StarFox leader somersaulted backwards, spotting his chance.

The chainsword tore into the floor, chewing into the ferroconcrete with a loud gnashing sound and Fox sprinted forward, feeling time slow just for him as he pounced into the air, his foot coming down on the upper side of the chainsword without teeth and springing him further upwards into Edgar's face. The crocodilian's jaws widened and his head tilted to catch the vulpine in his mouth, then Fox's EE-40 came out of it's holster and he thrust it almost point blank at Edgar's right eye. Fox squeezed the trigger once, twice, the third time nailing the reptilian orb right in the slit pupil.

Time returned to normal speeds as Fox hit Edgar's shoulder and tumbled to the ground, landing on his shoulder and rolling into a crouch as the crocodile screamed in pain and fury, his left hand clapped to his eye as his right arm wildly swung the buzzing chainsword.

"AHHHHHRRRGGHH! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Edgar bellowed, his head whipping from side to side as his arm flailed the chainsword, and Fox rose to his feet pulling the chain out of his belt, darting behind Edgar and delivering a roundhouse kick to the back of his knee. The crocodilian grunted and collapsed onto one knee as Fox backed up for a running start and Edgar finally got a glimpse of him. The crocodilian swung the chainsword as Fox took off, running out of the reach of Edgar's swing as he slowly began to struggle to full height, launching himself into the air and kicking off the wall to land right on the back of Edgar's shoulders. Fox fell forward as the crocodilian roared and bucked, swinging the chain with one hand across Edgar's open jaws and catching the other end in his free hand, then driving his feet into the reptile's armored back and pulling hard. The makeshift bit in Edgar's teeth reduced his roars to incoherent babble, and he clamped down on the chain, shaking from side to side but unable to dislodge Fox or bite through the links. Fox almost lost his footing after one more buck, then Edgar rose to full height and stumbled forward, gurgling hysterically as he reached the buzzing chainsword over his back. The speeding jagged teeth of the sword came at Fox's face and he ducked away as Edgar staggered, trying to keep his balance on the titan's back, then the sword came again and Fox released the chain, grabbing onto the flat top edge of the chainsword and shoving the whirring teeth down into Edgar's shoulderblade.

There was a muffled chewing sound and a spray of something hot across Fox's face as he dove for the ground, rolling into a crouch as the crocodilian's squealing screams shook the room. Edgar released the chainsword and fell into the ferroconcrete wall, a deep and gaping gash torn open through the armored scales on his back. The chainsword clattered silently to the floor, drenched in blood and strips of pulverized meat as Edgar let out wheezing, hissing whimpers. Fox stood up, breathing hard as the crocodilian slumped against the wall near the ladder, wondering if it was over.

Edgar Suchos slowly stepped back from the wall, blood surging in a shallow stream down his back and onto the floor, and he looked at Fox with one hateful yellow eye and one burned-out, empty socket. An indecipherable growl sounded from deep within the reptile and Edgar charged forward with blinding speed, his jaws wide open to swallow him whole.

Fox's gun was out of its holster in a flash, a scarlet blaster bolt searing into Edgar's open mouth and catching him with a squeal, and the StarFox leader dodged to the side as the crocodilian crashed into a profusion of pipes lining the wall. He sprinted for the ladder, leaping up and throwing himself onto a rung, reaching for the next as a hoarse scream blasted after him. Fox looked over his shoulder to see Edgar charging at him, still tall enough to reach him and summoning what was left of his strength. His eyes went wide as the crocodilian reached for him with one good arm, then a green plasma bolt lanced into his chest and knocked him back against the pipes.

Fox looked up to see Wolf O'Donnell standing on the platform at the top of the ladder, the end of his blaster smoking harshly.

"Move your ass!" Wolf barked, and Fox tore his way up the ladder as the crocodilian gathered up his final burst of effort and threw himself onto the rungs below.

Fox climbed as fast as he could, sometimes leaping upwards from one rung to two rungs above, but Edgar was somehow still gaining behind him, hissing with his disfigured mouth.

Another shot from Wolf elicited a wail of anguish from Edgar, and Fox began to pull forward, seeing the top of the ladder in grasp. There was an outraged howl below and suddenly the ladder shook violently, almost throwing Fox off. He looked down to see the crocodilian tearing the ladder free of the bolts securing it to the wall, determined to drag Fox down with him whatever the cost. Fox climbed faster, giving out a gasp as the ladder shook more and the top came within his reach. Just as he came to the rung below the very top, the dying crocodilian tore the ladder free of its bolts and fell back to the ground. The ladder fell backwards away from the ferroconcrete wall, Fox grunting as he reached the top rung, coiled up his legs and launched towards the platform with a yell.

He flew through space, his arms outstretched to grab the edge, but he saw it fall away before it was in his grasp, and he could feel his body losing momentum as it plunged down towards the ground.

A strong hand snapped onto Fox's forearm, claw-tipped fingers digging into his flesh as he slammed up against the wall and dangled through space.

He instantly looked down to the ground sixteen meters below, seeing the twisted ladder lying on top of the sprawled corpse of Edgar Suchos, a pool of dark red spread out around him. Then Fox looked up into the hard lavender eye and glowing optical implant of Wolf O'Donnell, a hand wrapped securely around his arm. A look of astonishment spread over Fox's face and he glanced back down at the ground, looking up at Wolf in time to see a calculating smile form across his muzzle.

Fox's hopeful visage disappeared, replaced with grim disappointment as he mentally prepared himself for the sensation of falling towards his death. Wolf held him hanging there for a few moments as the smile disappeared, replaced by a begrudging frown, then the lupine suddenly heaved backwards and dragged Fox up onto the platform.

Fox crawled away from the edge on all fours, breathing hard as he looked back over, then got to his feet.

He looked at Wolf and Wolf looked at him, and both seemed to have something on their minds.

"I thought you were going to let me fall," Fox respired, gulping.

"So did I," Wolf murmured.

They continued to stare at each other, making no other sounds aside from their breathing, and Fox felt like he had to speak.

"Thanks," he said with a gracious nod.

"Fuck yourself," Wolf snapped.

"Really, Wolf," Fox came back, "Thank you."

The StarWolf leader grimaced and glanced down at the floor, mumbling awkwardly, "You're welcome."

Fox didn't know what else to expect, so he waited for Wolf to make the first move. Wolf just tightened his jaw and eyed Fox suspiciously.

"Does this mean we have to start fighting?" Fox inquired quietly.

The same hand that Wolf had used to catch Fox now hovered cautiously over his holster.

"Maybe," Wolf growled, and Fox's hand moved slowly towards his own holster even as another crazy idea occurred to him, "What would ya' recommend we do instead?

"Talk," Fox blurted out, more on a whim.

"Psh. Right," Wolf dismissed, "Why don't we just sit down an' have some coffee, McCloud?"

"I'm serious, Wolf," Fox insisted, "How long have we been doing this? Ten years, probably more? In those ten years, we've crossed paths only a handful of times. When the Aparoids came, we had a common enemy, but we weren't fighting together for anything else. Even then, we never really talked. And a year later, you returned and we were back at one another's throats. Here we are now, going at it again. How much could it hurt to, just once, spend five minutes together not fighting?"

Wolf's brow furrowed at him as if he smelled something.

"If ya think this is gonna change what's goin' on..." Wolf rumbled.

"I'm not asking you to give up or back down," Fox replied, gesturing peacefully with his hands, "Let's just see what five minutes of listening to each other does. I don't think it's going to hurt either of us, and who knows, we might learn something. I'm not going to draw my gun, Wolf."

With that, Fox slowly sat down on the durasteel platform, crossing his legs and looking up at Wolf. The lupine glared at him warily.

"How do ya' know I'm not gonna shoot you right now?" Wolf demanded, crossing his arms.

"I don't," Fox shrugged, "But I don't think you would've saved my life just now only to blow my head off."

"I _didn't _save your life," Wolf snarled, "Ya' helped me, I helped you. We're _even_, McCloud, and I'd have no problem killin' you right now."

"Then that's a chance I'll have to take," Fox resigned, "In five minutes, we can go back to where we were before a slaphead came in trying to eat us. But until then you'll to have to shoot an unarmed target if you want to get rid of me that bad, and I don't think that's really your style."

The lupine raised a furry eyebrow and his rough tail wagged softly as his hand moved away from his holster. With a cautious expression still on his face, he slowly sat down cross-legged facing Fox. Fox's matching emerald eyes met the hard lavender eye and the glowing blue implant in Wolf's head, and Fox had a chance to really look over the mercenary's face for the first time. It wasn't quite as scruffy, or as visibly malicious as he often pictured it.

"Okay, McCloud, ya' got my attention," Wolf said, "What do ya' wanna talk about?"

"I wanted to talk about you. About me."

Wolf's head tilted curiously to the side.

"An' what about you an' me did ya' wanna talk about?" Wolf growled slowly, and for some reason Fox thought back to a similar conversation more than a year ago in Anaxes, when his life seemed to make more sense.

"About how this whole thing between us is going to end someday," Fox answered quietly, "We're going to kill each other. Aren't we?"

"I dunno," Wolf chuckled, bearing a mouth full of canine teeth, "I guess so."

Fox let out a bewildered breath and shook his head softly.

"That doesn't _bother _you?"

"Not really, McCloud," Wolf came back with a shake of his head, "People like me don't age well. As we get older, we find ourselves just existing instead a' doin' what we're meant to do. And there's gonna be a cold night in hell before I'm satisfied with just existing. I wanna die doin' what I was meant to do. I think you're like that, too, McCloud. Why else would ya' get back in tha' game instead of packin' it in and checkin' out after our run-in on Temple?"

"I guess you're right," Fox sighed, looking off to the side.

"So yeah," Wolf submitted, "Maybe someday you kill me. Maybe someday I kill you. Either way, seems ta' me like a better option than the alternatives."

"How does someone get like you, Wolf?"

"Tha' fuck are you talkin' about?" Wolf demanded irately.

"How did you get to the point where you can only find peace from either killing or getting killed?" Fox inquired, "What made you so _angry_?"

"Since when are you a shrink?" Wolf grumbled, "Ya' think I'm angry now, ya' should've known me a few years ago. Then again, we probably wouldn't have made it to this conversation back then. But anyway, who said I'm lookin' for _peace_?"

"What happened to you, Wolf?" Fox pressed quietly, trying to read his enemy's face. The StarWolf leader skoffed and looked off to the side, chewing a bit on his bottom lip.

"What did you wanna be when you grew up, McCloud?" Wolf said as he finally faced back at Fox.

"What?" Fox said, unprepared for the question.

Wolf rolled his eye and said, "If ya' coulda' been anything when you were a kid, what would you have wanted ta' be?"

Fox exhaled deeply. He knew the answer but it was hard to vocalize, given his history with Wolf. Not too long ago, Wolf had tried to bring up this particular old wound by teasing him with James McCloud's sunglasses. He offered it anyway.

"I wanted to be my father," Fox answered quietly.

Wolf smiled, not cruelly or with a victorious gleam in his eye, but with a genuine sense of connection to the male sitting across from him.

"Ain't that nice," Wolf whispered, "I wanted ta' be _you_."

"Me?" Fox clarified, taken aback.

"Shit yeah," Wolf grinned, "You were tha' son of James McCloud. Ta' me and every other piece a' backwater wolf trash, you were tha' luckiest kid in tha' universe. I didn't wanna be James McCloud. I wanted ta' be his son."

"Wolf, my life was _far _from perfect," Fox informed him in a careful tone.

"I don't think you realize how perfect it _was_," Wolf argued, "Yeah, ya' lost your momma. Yeah, ya' lost your daddy. At least ya knew they gave a shit. You weren't the unlucky kid, you weren't the bad seed, you weren't even the _middle child_, you were the center a' their world, weren't ya, McCloud?"

Wolf's jaw was clenched tight, and his claws were beginning to dig into his thigh, as if the words he was about to say were buried somewhere in his body that it hurt to bring them back out.

"And its not even that," Wolf breathed hoarsely, pausing before he spoke next, "You were born with... everything I never had, Fox. Everythin' they said I couldn't have. Do ya' blame me for tryin' ta' prove 'em wrong?"

The hard lavender eye in Wolf's head had softened, looking for Fox to give him something. Respect, sympathy, maybe even pity. But as much as Fox wanted to, as much as he truly wanted to tell Wolf what he wanted to hear, he couldn't ignore the long list of crimes, the graveyards full of bodies that Wolf had yet to answer for.

"No," Fox answered softly, "I blame you for all the lives you destroyed in the process."

"Easy for you ta' say," Wolf accused, his voice a hot whisper, "Ya never had ta' live like me. If you'd a' been born like me, one a' two things would've happened: Ya' would've been happy an' content bein' a piece a' wolf trash in tha' middle of nowhere. Or you woulda turned out just like I did. If I was born like you...I woulda been great, Fox. I would've been better than _you_. I'd save tha' whole fuckin _galaxy_, even from itself. I was never given the chance."

Fox breathed out through his nose, and he did at least feel pity for Wolf. He could lie, he could try to make it better and it might even change things between himself and his rival. But it wouldn't change Wolf, because it didn't sound to Fox like Wolf felt the need to change. There was maybe a question in his head, but not a drive. In the end, Fox thought Wolf deserved the truth, regardless of how hard it was.

"No one chooses the life they're born into, Wolf. That's not who we are. It's the things we do that shape us," Fox told him gently, like he would a friend, "You are who you are because that's how you chose to react to what life gave you. And you are someone who's done terrible things, Wolf. Even though I'm sure you could've saved the galaxy. That's not what you _did_."

Wolf looked off to the side, his jaw clenched tight and his hands balled up into fists. He closed his eye for a moment, and when it opened back up his breath came out in a growl. He stood up from the ground and looked down at Fox with contempt.

"Get up, McCloud," Wolf snarled. Fox slowly got to his feet.

"You stand there an' act all righteous-like...but I don't think ya' really feel anything at all," the lupine hissed, "You're not doin' this job ta' save tha' galaxy. You're doin' it because your Daddy woulda' wanted you ta' do it. You don't care about Lylat, especially not now, 'cause Lylat doesn't need you, not anymore. But you still need _this_. You still need StarFox, 'cause it's the only family you got and it's the only way you know how ta' live. Well this is the only way _I_ know how ta' live; I never got a choice. Neither of us are content ta' just exist. _That's _why we're gonna kill each other someday."

"It doesn't have to be like that, Wolf," Fox protested, "I... could help you. Somehow."

"I don't WANT your HELP," Wolf snarled darkly.

Fox sighed regretfully. He hadn't known what to expect. Then why did he feel so disappointed?

"So, that's it?" Fox asked.

"That's it," Wolf glowered, "You tried. You failed. And your five minutes are up. Now, can we _please _kill each other again?"

Wolf's clawed hand moved back over his holster, his rough tail going stiff with agitation.

"If that's what you want," Fox submitted, his hand moving towards his holster.

"It is," the lupine concluded.


	18. Patriot Games

******AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hi. You probably expected this to be done by now. So did I. Life happened. But the good news is, it practically is finished. I'm wrapping up with the last chapter and polishing off the one before it. I wanted to give you a shorter, more fast-paced chapter than usual, given the way the story is ending. The updates should come faster too, I won't give a date but expect the next chapter in about a week or so, depending on the response I get. Enjoy, and tell me what you think of this twist -TU

* * *

**-Patriot Games-**

They drew their guns, ducked and fired at the same time, a crimson bolt darting over Wolf's ears as a verdant burst lanced past Fox's face. With an enraged growl Wolf leapt at him, shoving his gun back in the holster as Fox lined up a shot. Wolf ducked a laser bolt meant for his face and grabbed Fox's wrist, spinning and throwing him at the turbolift doors. Fox hit them with a grunt and lunged to the side as Wolf's boot smashed into the metal, holstering his blaster and moving at his enemy's exposed back, darting away as Wolf swiped out with his claws. Saliva dripped off Wolf's teeth as he waited for Fox to make the first move. They circled for a few seconds, making false lunges at one another, then Wolf burst at him with a claw-swipe at Fox's face.

Fox stopped him with a strike to the forearm and stunned Wolf with a jab to his neck, then kneed him in the ribs and sent him stumbling back. A punch from Fox was blocked by a gauntleted forearm, then Wolf grabbed the red scarf around Fox's neck and yanked forward, tripping him and throwing him to the floor. Claws came at his face and Fox blocked with a forearm, feeling a burning sting as they tore through his flesh, then he thrashed away and drove his elbow into the side of Wolf's thigh. The lupine grunted and stumbled forward, and Fox lurched up and grabbed the locket hanging around Wolf's neck, tugging him down and nailing a punch into his nose. He staggered to the side with a yip and Fox rolled to his feet, darting at Wolf and ducking under a quick defensive swipe to grab onto the ends of his blue blast vest and yank him off balance, slugging him in the jaw.

Wolf tumbled backwards, planting his feet near the edge of the platform with a snarl, then they charged towards each other. Fox swept away from a punch, catching an elbow to the jaw from the same arm as Wolf brought up a spiked kneepad. He lurched to the side a moment too late, hearing the fabric of his flight suit tear along with the flesh over his hip, and Fox cried out as he jabbed Wolf under his arm and shoved him off to the side, landing a swift kick to his ribs. The hit drove Wolf into the turbolift doors, his back to Fox, and the StarFox leader sprinted up to kick Wolf hard in the back. Wolf caught the kick in the cradle of his arm and elbowed Fox in the chest, then he sprang off the turbolift doors with his fist raised to nail him in the face and Fox quickly brought up his arms with a cough. Wolf's fist connected with a meaty thump, driving Fox further back, and he swept the lupine's fist away and smashed an elbow into his jaw. Fox's enemy yelled and swept out with his claws, and Fox caught his wrist and jerked him into a punch to the stomach that doubled him over so Fox could bring his knee up into Wolf's face. The lupine staggered back against the turbolift doors, gritting his teeth as Fox widened his stance and raised his fists.

He'd come face to face with Edgar Suchos and the psychological issues driving his flashbacks, and beaten them both. Maybe he could even beat Wolf O'Donnell in a hand-to-hand fight. There was a determined gleam in his emerald eyes as he narrowed them at Wolf.

Wolf glared loathingly with a hard lavender eye, spat blood onto the floor, then slapped the call button next to the turbolift doors.

"Only room for one, McCloud," Wolf snarled, "Who gets ta call the prize: tha' self-righteous Cub Scout, or tha' _bad guy_?"

"Bad choices, not bad guy," Fox countered, shifting his weight from the ball of one foot to the other, "You could change if you wanted."

"Shut up an' fight, you pussy," Wolf snapped, pouncing forward.

Wolf's claws raked through the air, barely missing his face as Fox drew closer to the sixteen meter drop at the edge of the platform. Fox dodged one last swipe then Wolf drew back and lashed out in a kick that Fox caught in his hands. He shoved forward and swept out with his foot at Wolf's other leg as the mercenary gasped, his back slamming into the durasteel floor with a heavy thud. Reaching for his holster Fox lunged at Wolf, only to be caught as the lupine's legs windmilled up from the floor and kicked him off to the side. Fox winced at the dull pain in his collarbone where Wolf's boot had hit, shaking it out of his head as his enemy flipped onto his feet and tore at him with a snarl. The swipes and jabs came in a blur of gray fur from Wolf, connecting with Fox's blocks almost in step with his heartbeat, driving him back against the wall, then Fox locked Wolf's arms with his and jerked down, thrusting his forehead into the photoreceptor of Wolf's implant. There was a hard thump of bone against metal and Wolf stepped backwards with a groan, stunned long enough for Fox to come around and put the lupine into a chokehold from behind. Wolf gagged and thrashed in Fox's grip, one of the spikes of his narcium shoulder armor digging painfully into Fox's chest but not enough to break the skin, so he just flexed his arm tighter around Wolf's neck, choking off his wind pipe. The lupine gurgled furiously, his claws tearing into Fox's arm and producing a scream as blood flowed warmly into his fur. Fox viciously boxed one of Wolf's ears in retribution, gritting his teeth and praying he could keep Wolf in the chokehold long enough for him to lose consciousness. He kept thrashing, this time heaving forward, making Fox struggle to keep his feet on the ground. With one more burst of effort, Wolf heaved forward, lifting Fox off his feet, kicking high to drive his kneepad spike into Fox's face. Fox let go as the spike came up, feeling the thick metal hit him above his eye as the edge of the spike cut into his ear.

The warmth and wetness of blood oozing in his ear barely registered to Fox as Wolf angrily twisted around to backhand him in the face, and Fox ducked underneath the lupine's arm and grabbed the base of his rough gray tail. Fox jerked hard, eliciting a high-pitched roar from Wolf as he swept one of the lupine's feet off the ground and shoved him face-first into the ferroconcrete wall. As his enemy thumped painfully into the concrete his leg shot into Fox's stomach, throwing him backwards to the edge of the platform. Fox regained his balance and swept the blood out of his ear, both forearms soaked maroon with the blood pouring out of the gashes Wolf had made. Wolf pulled away from the wall with an angry snarl and they both heard the low, humming whine of the approaching turbolift.

They ran at each other and Fox threw his back into a punch that Wolf caught, dragging him by his arm and grabbing him by the inside of his leg to lift him fully off his feet and slam him down into the floor. Fox moaned loudly as the air rushed out of his lungs, and Wolf twisted his arm painfully as he appeared above him less than a second away from punching Fox's skull into the floor. Fox's leg came up like a pendulum catching Wolf in the forehead and throwing him backwards as Fox rolled over and rose to his feet, hearing as the sounds of the turbolift grew louder. He had to keep himself between Wolf and the turbolift doors for a few more seconds, just a few more seconds and it would all be over. Wolf seemed to realize this, too, and came running at Fox with a loud snarl.

Fox lashed out in a kick to drive Wolf back, but the lupine dodged to the side and grabbed a handful of Fox's flightsuit, yanking him close and delivering a right hook into Fox's jaw that exploded in a wave of white pain before his eyes.

Fox could feel his ass hit the floor hard, the stinging ache in his jaw and the taste of blood in his mouth, but all that he could see through his eyes was white for a few precious moments. His vision cleared and Fox saw the cylindrical turbolift car speed down from the ceiling through the transparisteel shaft tube, Wolf making his way quickly towards the doors. He flew to his feet as his hands flew to his holster, whipping out his EE-40 and pulling the trigger. Fox saw Wolf whirl around and a flash of pink, then he screamed as a red-hot sword stabbed into his shoulder and sent him to the floor.

Fox groaned loudly and struggled to sit up as he smelled burnt fabric, fur and flesh, glancing briefly at the smoking black wound made by his own reflected blaster bolt on his left shoulder. His eyes traveled across the floor, seeing his blaster pistol lying about a meter away, then seeing Wolf step through the open turbolift doors and look back with a wry smirk.

"Must really suck ta' lose this one, McCloud," Wolf remarked as the doors slid closed.

Fox gritted his teeth as the turbolift car rose up into the ceiling and he weakly came to his feet, putting a hand over the wound in his shoulder. The humiliation of Wolf beating him to the turbolift was dulled by the pain from the cuts on his waist, ear and arms, along with the bruises scattered over his body. The blaster wound in his shoulder, though still smoldering, didn't hurt at all, the necessary nerves burnt to a crisp along with the rest of the body tissues that the bolt had touched. The armorweave fibers in his jacket had absorbed some of the bolt's energy, which was likely the sole reason Fox was still able to move his arm.

He should've known to bring body armor for this. It had been a lifesaver on Fortuna, but he'd neglected to wear any out of concern that it would slow him down and make him less flexible. He thanked himself for having the foresight to bring something _else _helpful with him. Fox walked slowly over to the turbolift doors and pressed the call button, then opened up a small pouch on his jacket and pulled out a white reinforced plastic box with a red cross on the lid. He clicked open the small first-aid kit, revealing a compact assortment of synthflesh bandages, provitate gel, irrigation bulbs, stim-shots and a roll of conventional bandage-tape. He pulled out the irrigation bulb, pressing the end against his blaster wound and giving it a squeeze, feeling the cool gel gush over his wound and clean it up before being sucked back into the bulb.

Fox slipped off his jacket and unscrewed the lid from the container of provitate gel, rubbing it on the blackened circle of flesh, then pressing a synthflesh bandage to it until it stuck. Feeling the blood starting to drip off the saturated fur of his arms, Fox went to work tending his other wounds as he looked at the glowing turbolift call button then up at the ceiling.

* * *

The grin on Wolf's face and the rush of adrenaline in his chest dulled the ache of the bruises from his fight. He had quite possibly won the night for Team StarWolf, and he'd done it by definitively beating the hell out of McCloud. He was on the crest of an unbelievable high, accentuated by the rising feeling of the turbolift carrying him up to the bridge of the _Xerxes_; he doubted that he could stop smiling if he wanted to.

As he caught his breath and watched the levels on the display panel count upwards, there was a low droning sound and a murmur, almost as if a number of hushed voices had suddenly begun talking in a crowded room. He glanced around and tried to find the source of the sound, and was startled as the male-dominated chorus filled the turbolift car with triumphant singing of "..._rom mighty volcanoes to shady ravine/ The Styx gives its gold to the sea/ But somewhere a glory awaits unseen/ Tomorrow belongs to me..._"

Wolf drew his blaster in surprise and whipped around to the rear of the turbolift car, seeing in a faded holoscreen the images of the Venomian Army choir assembled before a large black statue of Andross. He breathed and shook his head at his own foolishness, holstering his blaster as the choir continued to sing the planetary anthem of Venom: "_Now Venom, proud Venom, show us the sign/ Your children have waited to see/ The morning will come/ When the stars are all mine/ Tomorrow belongs, tomorrow belongs/ Tomorrow belongs to me!_"

Wolf grunted as the footage of the choir ended with them all turning as one and raising their arms in salute to Andross' image. His memories of the early days as a test pilot in the Venomian Army, before StarWolf was officially formed by Andross, were rife with indoctrinations such as having to sing that melodramatic song every night in the mess hall at dinner. He looked back snidely at his decision to join Venom. The thought drew him to his brief but honest talk with McCloud, and the smile on Wolf's face melted into a frown, the victorious rush in his veins tempered by second-guesses in his mind.

When he'd sat down with McCloud, Wolf had actually tried to engage with his rival on a very real level. Ironically, Wolf found himself being more honest with Fox about his thoughts than he was able to with Leon, or really anyone else, and there was a moment there when he'd felt a real understanding with his archenemy.

Then he'd let himself get vulnerable, allowed his enemy too much into his head, and McCloud had done what he did best, judging him as if it were his right. All of the circumstances, disadvantages and obstacles that had been placed in front of Wolf his whole life didn't matter to McCloud, and the way that everything turned out when he fought against those obstacles was automatically his fault. He was a _bad person _who made _bad choices_, as if Wolf had any control over it.

It wasn't _his _choice to be born labeled a _lobo _or a piece of _wolf trash_, the unlucky child of two ignorant hicks that dared call themselves parents. He didn't decide to have a short fuse, a talent for violence and a disdain for authority, it was predisposed by genetics and nurtured by experience. Wolf didn't order the armies of Venom to invade and pillage the Lylat System, Andross had done that.

But that didn't matter to McCloud, because McCloud never had to make tough choices like he had. It was all given to him, on a god-damned silver platter.

The thought made Wolf bare his teeth at his reflection in the metal turbolift doors.

If the circumstances of life had shaped Wolf into the villain, then so be it. If this truly was what he was always meant to do, Wolf could throw himself into it, body mind and soul. But Wolf would be _damned _if he let McCloud convince him that there was ever a thing he could've done to prevent it.

The turbolift reached the level labeled **Command Deck** and the doors slid open to reveal polished red walls and a shining metal door marked with the inverted A symbol of the Venomian Empire. Wolf smirked to himself as he stepped out and the doors slid shut behind him, the turbolift descending with a low hum.

He looked back at the doors with a frown.

No _way _he was going to make it that easy for McCloud, after the things he'd said.

Wolf summoned up the electronics interface program on his implant, and went to work on the turbolift control panel with a smile.

* * *

Fox flexed both hands, feeling the muscles in his forearms tense under the tight bandages wrapped around them. He'd treated all of the seriously bleeding wounds Wolf had inflicted, using up all of the synthflesh patches in his first-aid kit as well as most of the provitate gel. The conventional bandage tape remained, along with the stim-shot and the irrigation bulb, but he would have to be careful not to be injured again. That would be a tall order, knowing that he was headed up to face Wolf on the command deck. Krystal and Falco would be headed up there after completing their assignments, so he might have reinforcements, but it would be a matter of coordinating them. Perhaps he could open the upper access panels of the turbolift carriage and hide on the top.

As Fox ran through scenarios in his head, he became aware of a loud, high-pitched humming noise that was growing gradually louder. It sounded almost like the sound of a moving turbolift, though something was definitely different...

His green eyes swelled with surprise as it dawned on him and Fox sprinted across the platform, spotting a doorway sunken into the wall with a closed metal door, taking cover in the shelter of the alcove.

The turbolift car dropped down in a blur through the transparisteel shaft, shaking the floor with a trembling explosion and the screaming sound of tearing metal. Fox spared a look at the wreckage as the dust cleared, glancing up at the warped turbolift shaft and following it as it gradually grew less damaged the further away he got from the bottom. Even if he'd had the foresight to bring an ascension gun of some kind, there was no telling how long it would take Fox to climb up the shaft, if it was even possible. He was at the lowest accessible point on the ship, trying to reach the highest.

Fox tightened his jaw and cursed, then opened the metal door and searched for a way to the upper decks.

* * *

Wolf had allowed himself a smug giggle as the turbolift car plunged down the shaft, the tractor beam that moved the car from level to level disabled along with the several redundant breaking systems that prevented it from doing exactly what Wolf had just made it do. Fox was sure to find that amusing, if he wasn't foolish enough to get caught in the inevitable crash when the turbolift car reached the bottom.

He turned away from the lift doors with a thoroughly pleased smirk, walking up to the silver doors in front of him and watching them slide open to reveal the _Xerxes_' main bridge.

Like much of the ship, the bridge at the top of the _Xerxes_' command tower was large and impressive, almost like the great hall of an old castle. The doors that Wolf had walked through were apparently not the primary entrance to the bridge, a broad archway at the end of the room looked out over a terrace that melted into a compact metal staircase leading down to the level Wolf was on. On the lower level near the center was an imposing chair for the commander to sit and oversee the bridge's operations, while near the front a squat set of three stairs led up to a platform ringed by railings with a large computer console with a holographic touch-screen interface. There were holoprojectors and workstations with computer terminals scattered around the room, but the truly astonishing thing was how roomy and empty the bridge felt for a ship the size of the _Xerxes_. This was accentuated by the transparisteel viewport of the bridge, which not only offered a panoramic view through the front of the command tower, but curved upward and back for the entire length of the ceiling, as if it were open to the stars like the helm of an ancient sailing ship. Wolf looked out at the length of the _Xerxes _stretched in front of him through the viewport, first the missile pods then the two columns of five twin assault pulse laser batteries lined up in a steep V terminating at the bow of the ship.

Wolf nodded with a smirk and put a finger to his implant as he stepped forward through the quiet bridge.

"StarWolf, report," Wolf commanded, "I'm on tha' bridge. Where's everyone else?"

"**I have returned to guard our ships in the hangar bay, my Lord**," IG-N 96 came back, "**I attempted to neutralize the StarFox members in the auxiliary hangar bay, however I only managed to incapacitate ROB-64 before suffering...damages. Congratulations making it to the bridge**."

"I'm almost there myself, actually," Panther's smooth voice returned over the comm, "Reactivating the propulsion systems went swimmingly."

There were a few more moments of silence without a response from Leon, and Wolf began to frown.

"What's tha' status on Leon?" Wolf demanded.

"Last I saw, he was about to have a very intimate conversation with Krystal," Panther answered, appearing at the top of the stairs through the main entrance to the bridge, spreading his arms out theatrically, "I never saw how the conversation ended, nor did I hear anything from him."

"**I cannot offer a reason for Comrade Powalski's radio silence, however his comlink is still transmitting normal vital signs. Normal for Comrade Powalski at least**," IG replied over the comm, "**I've observed his vitals many times and noted that even in combat his pulse seldom rises above ninety, so he could conceivably be in a multitude of states that would preclude him from speaking**."

"Whatever, he's still breathin'. Good enough for me," Wolf nodded as Panther's boots tapped down the stairs to join him. The feline glanced around the bridge with a smirk, his tail curving upwards in satisfaction.

"It seems things are looking up for us, Wolf," Panther smiled.

"How'd reactivatin' the engines go?" Wolf inquired.

"As I said: _swimmingly_. Not a single problem."

"Ya' didn't even _see _anyone else?"

Panther's smile faded slightly, his black-furred brow wrinkling.

"No, there was... no one, why?"

"Cause that's real fuckin' unusual for today," Wolf snarled, drawing his blaster pistol and looking around at the shadows, "IG, who'd you see with StarFox's ships?"

"**Slippy Toad, Peppy Hare, and ROB-64**," the android returned.

"Which means tha' _bird _was supposed ta' do the engines for 'em," Wolf muttered, sniffing the air cautiously.

There was nothing suspicious in the air, but Wolf was still tempted to activate some of the vision filters on his implant to see if there were any avians hiding behind the doors and walls nearby.

"Ya' _sure _you weren't followed?" Wolf growled.

"I...well, I don't know," Panther remarked, "I didn't _feel _like I was being followed, but I wasn't exactly looking to see if I had a tail."

"Goddammit, Panther," Wolf cursed.

"What?" the feline demanded, "I figured that I'd made it there before he did. The engine systems weren't activated when I got there. Staying in the shadows and following someone isn't exactly the parrot's style, Wolf."

Wolf growled in frustration.

"Come on," Panther encouraged, "Just because we're almost there doesn't mean we get to slow down. Let's get started on taking our cut."

Wolf grumbled, giving one last glance at the doorway to the bridge, knowing that it couldn't be as easy as it was beginning to appear, but also hearing the truth in Panther's words. They made their way to the large computer console on the platform near the front of the bridge, and Panther worked on accessing the ship's electronic vaults as Wolf established a connection with several of StarWolf's accounts, mostly using their accounts based on free banks and Macbeth. As the uplink appeared on the holographic interface in front of Wolf, Panther let out an ecstatic sigh.

"Just _look _at all those zeroes," the feline smiled, "Four hundred and thirty-five _billion _has to be the most erotic number there is."

"Remember, only _half _of it's ours," Wolf grunted, "Connolly's sure ta' send _armies _of hitmen if we get even a pen more than him."

"Of course. Two hundred and seventeen billion is almost as sexy as four hundred thirty-five," Panther shrugged.

"Ready on my end," Wolf reported.

"As am I. Beginning the transfer..." Panther replied, touching his finger to a holographic icon, "now."

The holographic displays began to change around, and a progress bar appeared in the lower corner, filling up by tiny fractions every few seconds.

"And we're transferring," Panther smiled, his expression fading as he watched the progress bar, "Very slowly. It'll take more than an hour to move all the money, but still, we're talking about more than forty million Liat every _second_."

"I can wait," Wolf shrugged, "It'll give us time ta' secure tha' command tower an' make sure ya' weren't followed."

"I told you, I'm pretty confident I wasn't."

"Well there's only one person unaccounted for on this ship an' he's tha' one _you _should've run into. We're comin' out ahead just now an' tha' biggest problem we could have is if one of those assholes gets up here!" Wolf snarled, his fierce expression diminishing as Panther gasped quietly and his golden eyes swelled with shock, "What is it?"

"You...may want to rethink that statement..." Panther remarked, pointing behind Wolf.

It was at that point that the computer consoles began beeping in alarm, and Wolf turned around to see through the magnificent viewport a collection of large gray capitol ships emerging from warp, flashing out of the blackness of space and coming to a stop off the _Xerxes_' starboard bow.

"What tha' fuck is _this_ shit?" Wolf roared, his arm gesturing angrily at the fleet of twenty ships that appeared on their flank.

"They're Cornerian ships," Panther whispered with a slight amount of dread, "Do you think it's the army?"

Gritting his teeth, Wolf counted ten _Sphyrna_-class patrol corvettes, six _Acropolis-_class assault ships, and four large _Trafalguis_-class battle cruisers. Whoever it was, they came prepared for a fight. Wolf then recognized an interlocking pentangle painted on the side of the _Trafalguis _ships in translucent green, and he let out an irritated sigh.

"Worse," Wolf grunted, "Tha' CSB's here."

Panther frowned even more, his tail drooping lower.

"What do we do?"

Wolf growled at Panther as if he'd just told him a few seconds ago.

"Ya' think we're throwin' it in just 'cause _they're_ here?" the lupine demanded, "Let's see how much a' this ship we really can control. Try ta' make the money transfer go faster. And get these fucking weapons grids online."

* * *

"All ships accounted for, Madam Director," Captain Gaius Lane reported from his post at the _Jeremiad_'s polished Combat Information Center.

"Very good, Captain Lane," Gillian Morrow nodded at the chocolate Labrador in the blue naval uniform as she sat the tactical plot table aft of the CIC's main pit. The CIC was a clean white ovaloid room with several computer stations surrounding the command chair near which Captain Lane stood, filled with chrome trimmings and the bluish hue of holographic input peripherals, however Gillian Morrow's focus was on the broad viewport across the main pit. Framed perfectly in the viewport, almost like a painted landscape was the VNS _Xerxes_, with the orange nebula cloud of Sector Z in the background. In the distance, almost specks compared to the Venomian warship, she could make out the shapes of the _Great Fox _along with a much more boxy-looking red-brown ship, but they were hardly a concern.

The she-wolf allowed a thin smile to cross her muzzle as she smoothed out the folds of the same black pantsuit she'd worn to address Prime Minister Fitzroy the previous day.

She was so close to her goal that she could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue, the thrill of victory filling her with such excitement that she had to consciously prevent herself from panting in an unseemly manner. Even still, her tail wriggled beneath her in her seat.

She cleared her throat and glanced over to Agent Rupert Frost, standing rigidly at the corner of the tactical plot table in his black and white suit, a weary and conflicted look in his brown eyes.

"Connect me to the StarFox mother ship," she instructed.

"Yes, Director," the badger replied with a nod, plugging his comlink into the table and pressing a series of buttons.

There was a crackling sound of feedback from the speakers in the ceiling, then a brief moment of silence before a rich, hoarse voice came to Morrow's ears.

"Morrow," Peppy Hare cursed, "I _wish_ I was more surprised."

"Riveting as your conversation is, Lieutenant Commander, I'm not interested," the white wolf sighed, brushing a lock of hair over her shoulder, "Connect me to Fox McCloud."

Peppy's voice grew louder as he protested, "After the way you've manip-"

"NOW, Lieutenant Commander," Morrow cut off firmly, "Obstructing me will _not _help your situation."

"Fine," Peppy replied hotly, and there was a brief crackle as his voice disappeared.

Gillian Morrow uncrossed her legs, stroking her thigh with a black high-heel before crossing them again and leaning back in her chair.

"Peppy?" Fox McCloud's voice resonated through the CIC in a puzzled tone.

"Commander McCloud, this is Gillian Morrow," The she-wolf informed, "The CSB Enforcement Fleet is in position to take custody of the _Xerxes_, as per our contract. Have you secured the ship?"

"How did you get here, Morrow?" Fox demanded, "Are you _tracking _my ship?"

"That's _classified_," Morrow smirked in a dismissive tone, "Does StarFox have control of the _Xerxes_?"

"Not yet," Fox admitted, "StarWolf is on the ship with us. We need time."

Morrow's smile deepened.

"That won't be necessary, Commander. We can take it from here. Withdraw your team. You will still receive a percentage of the recovered Liat in the ship's vaults."

"Just _wait_, Morrow!" Fox protested, "We can still do this. And after we secure this ship, I want answers. What is this all about, and why have you used us like pawns?"

"That's not information for you to know," Morrow rebuked icily, "Are you refusing my orders, Commander?"

"What does the CSB need this ship for?" Fox demanded, "Who are you going to use it against?"

"Whoever we deem necessary; this is _not _a negotiation, Commander," Morrow shot back, raising her voice harshly, "Pull out."

"No."

A deadened silence fell over the CIC, but no one, not even Captain Lane or Agent Frost, dared look at the Director of the Commonwealth Security Bureau. The white wolf's golden eyes were wide as if someone had slapped her.

"_No?_" Morrow hissed.

"Did I stutter?" the StarFox leader came back, "You can _stop _thinking that you can intimidate me; I've faced worse than you. You have _no idea _what I've gone through because of what you haven't told me. Now this _is _a negotiation."

Morrow's fingernails dug into the edge of the tactical plot, her upper lip curling to show a mouth of pale predatory teeth.

"Your contract is terminated," she menaced, "Leave now, or face charges of sedition and obstruction of justice."

"You terminate our contract and I'll take this ship somewhere you'll never find it," Fox threatened, "There's a lot of space out there to get lost in."

"You are making _such _a mistake."

"Give us time to secure this ship for you," Fox's voice directed, "Then we'll talk about what I need to know, how much I deserve, and what you're going to do with this ship."

"I don't take orders from _you_!" Morrow barked, her voice shooting a pulse through the CIC, "This is your final warning, McCloud. Withdraw your team, fade into the background, and forget this assignment. Otherwise, I can't guarantee your safety. Do you understand me?"

Morrow settled back down in her seat, crossing her arms with a smug glance at the speakers in the ceiling. She seldom if ever raised her voice, and when she did, people tended to follow every word.

Except, apparently, for Fox McCloud.

"I understand, Morrow," Fox growled, "Go fuck yourself."

The clicking sound of the transmission being terminated seemed to freeze everyone in the room, except this time every horrified face was on Gillian Morrow. The she-wolf's golden eyes were ablaze with fury, her teeth bared and her tail stiff as she rose silently out of her seat. A canine ensign appeared through the doorway to the CIC and Morrow shot a lethal glance his way, and his ears flattened as he backed out of the room with his tail between his legs. Morrow let out a single shuddering, incensed breath, then her eyes shrank to their normal size, her jaw stopped quivering as her lips fell back over her teeth, and her tail dropped towards her legs. She closed her eyes and breathed steadily, and when she opened them up the shine in her golden gaze was almost forgiving.

"Launch the alert fighters," the white wolf commanded, and the CIC began moving once again as officers scrambled to carry out the order.

"Director Morrow, this will spiral out of control..." Agent Frost warned her cautiously, and she continued with her orders as if the badger was mute.

"I want Comet fighters to intercept any ships trying to leave, they are to order them into the landing bay of the _Aparo_. If they refuse to comply, destroy them. I want Shadow fighter-bombers covering the deflector shield arrays, pulse laser cannons and command tower. Arm and establish lock, but fire only on my order," Morrow commanded forcefully, "I want a firing solution on the warp drive engines from _Adrasteia_, on the sublights from _Nemesis_, on the missile pods from _Scarred Hand _and on the hull surrounding the command tower from _Jeremiad_. Captain, what boarding teams do we have in the fleet?"

"Twelve teams in all, Madam Director," Captain Lane answered, "Two Marine fire teams with dropships on each _Acropolis_-class in the fleet."

"Good," Morrow nodded, "Assemble three teams, each to a dropship, and commence boarding operations. Use the breach umbilical on the dropships and cut through the hull."

"Director," Agent Frost pleaded, "There's no need, please-"

"Agent Frost, _so _much of your career depends on whether you finish that sentence," Morrow interjected frigidly, staring him down like she would a beetle on her dinner table.

The badger's weathered face slowly went blank and he went back to standing silently nearby. Morrow looked back over the CIC and glowered at the _Xerxes_.

"I want the teams to infiltrate at the base of the command tower, on the dorsal hull behind the missile pods, and on the ventral side of the bow between the pulse laser arrays," Morrow commanded with forceful resignation, her golden eyes locked on her prize, "They are to secure the ship as fast as possible. Orders are shoot to kill any that resist, be they StarFox or StarWolf."

* * *

Fox had been making his way up the stairwells of the _Xerxes _when Gillian Morrow had patched into his comlink to deliver her ultimatum. Since telling her off, he'd been moving much faster.

He estimated that he was somewhere on the upper decks of the ship aft of the missile pods when he turned down a broad corridor with rust red walls and shining gray floors. The upper decks tended to have colored walls opposed to the flat, industrial gray of the middle deck corridors, and these also seemed to be the only corridors with viewports on the _Xerxes_. Fox passed by a wide transparisteel window in the corridor and saw the fleet of twenty Commonwealth ships against the starry abyss of space, swallowing anxiously. The nimble _Sphyrna_-class corvettes that glided amongst the larger ships were built to shred apart any star fighter, including the Arwing, and the four _Trafalguis_-class cruisers remained the most powerful ships in the Cornerian starfleet short of the _Ajax_-class battlecarrier. What truly worried him, however, were the _Acropolis-_class assault ships, the almost coffin-shaped carriers that had replaced the more compact _Dreadnaught_-class cruiser in the Commonwealth-Venom arms race before the Lylat War. Pouring out of the stacked hangar bays on each _Acropolis_ like swarms of angry hornets were clouds of J-4 Comet fighters and S-8 Shadow fighter-bombers, sailing through space towards the _Xerxes _so fast that Fox could make out the green and white markings on the wings.

It had been so satisfying to mouth off to Gillian Morrow after all she'd put him through, but Fox found himself questioning the wisdom of it now. He knew how to fight StarWolf and other enemies.

He wasn't sure how to deal with the Commonwealth military.

"Fox, are you there?" Peppy came in over the comlink, "What's happening, we need an update here."

"I'm moving up through the ship now, Peppy," Fox reported, moving down the corridor, "I'm pretty sure Wolf made it to the command deck. I ran into problems."

"Did you notice the CSB's here? They've parked a flotilla right next to the ship, the proposal for their damn starfleet must've gone through. I don't know _how _they found us," Peppy cursed, "Morrow demanded to speak to you."

"Yeah, I talked with her," Fox replied, passing multiple doorways and new corridors branching off from his path as he picked up the pace.

"Well what happened? Why are they launching fighters?" Peppy barked.

"Long story short: I think I pissed them off."

"Oh shit, Fox, _why_?"

"I told Morrow StarWolf was on the ship and she told us to withdraw for a reduced settlement. I tried to negotiate and she pulled the contract, what was I supposed to do?" Fox retorted.

"Ugh. Bitch," Peppy grunted.

"I figure if I can get control of the bridge in time, maybe I can get her to calm down and call off the fighters," Fox proposed, following the map on his scouter down the corridor, "Where's Falco and Krystal?"

"Falco's gone radio silent," Peppy answered, "But his vitals are steady and he's moving up through the command tower. Krystal's about two decks above you. Looks like she's moving through the stairwell leading up to the command decks. No response from her, either, but her vitals are lowered. It looks like she ran into problems of her own."

Something cold ran through Fox's fur. Even though he knew their relationship was over, the thought of Krystal injured formed a tightness in his heart.

"Send me their location data and keep trying to raise them," Fox instructed, "Are any of the fighters engaging the _Great Fox_?"

"No, they seem to be focusing just on the _Xerxes. _Slippy's done with fixing ROB, he's just compiling himself right now. We'll have him back in a few moments," Peppy came back, then his voice lowered into a dreadful murmur, "Oh no. Fox, we've detected three dropships among the fighters. They're sending in Marines."

"Wonderful," Fox said quietly, spotting a ladder up to the next deck.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll tell you when I figure that out," Fox replied.

* * *

"What tha' _fuck _is taking so long?" Wolf snarled, glancing up from the input screens every few seconds to look at the squadrons of Cornerian fighters weaving over the _Xerxes_.

"I can't speed up the money transfer," Panther said, tinkering with the holographic touch screens, "And the weapons grids and targeting controls are active, but they're not powered up. If we divert power to the weapons, it'll be detectable by the fleet and they'll open fire. The deflector shield array is still warming up, 74% and climbing. Once it's at full power we might stand a chance, but right now they have the upper edge."

The StarWolf leader gave off a frustrated growl as a Cornerian Comet fighter glided over the bridge viewport with a low rumble.

"What about warp drives? This ship can outrun 'em," Wolf proposed, running through his options.

"It looks like one of the ships has an interdiction field active," Panther murmured, "A special upgrade, I'm assuming, since it's a CSB ship. Must be on the lead ship in the fleet. It's preventing us from warping away."

"Try ta' isolate the ship projectin' tha' field," he ordered.

"I can only do so much at once, Wolf."

"Shut tha' fuck up an' do it, this ain't time ta' bitch out," Wolf snapped.

Panther turned and narrowed his eyes at him, and Wolf would've punched him in the face if he didn't need his help so much. The feline went back to work after a moment, and Wolf looked back at the screen with a scowl.

He didn't know how the CSB could've gotten here, but the orbital bombardment on Fortuna was beginning to make more sense. He had to assume that they were with StarFox, which meant that his slight lead could disappear if he didn't act _fast_. He could lose not only the _Xerxes_, but the _Lone Wolf_ as well.

A persistent, whistling beep could be heard across the room, and a workstation a few meters away began to display a hologram of the _Xerxes _with three regions circled in red. Wolf entered in a few commands to display the data on his station, and a projection of the ship appeared in front of him with a blinking circle on the underside of the ship's needle-nose bow, on the hull behind the missile pods and at the base of the command tower. **Proximity Warning: Boarding Craft Detected! **the screen flashed, displaying an image of a sleek craft with stubby wings that Wolf recognized as an S-16 Sulla dropship.

"Shit," Wolf hissed, "We got assault teams. Three of 'em."

"Any nearby?" Panther inquired.

"Looks like one a' them is coming in downstairs," Wolf said, running ideas through his head.

"What's the plan? Fight them?" Panther asked.

"These ain't just chicken-shit footsoldiers or hired guns," Wolf growled, "They're Commonwealth Marines, and a fire team outnumbers the two of us four to one. Even if we could win, we'd risk losing the bridge."

"As far as internal security goes, there's holocams all over the corridors and automated defense turrets at choke points on the ship," Panther added, "We can control them from here, but Marines likely have countermeasures, maybe even suit-mounted shield projectors. I doubt a few auto-cannons can do much damage."

"Hold up," Wolf started, his ears perking as something ran through his head.

"What?" Panther inquired.

"Call up damage control," Wolf instructed, "I wanna see tha' fire suppression system."

"I don't think retardant gas is going to be much help."

"What ya' don't know is Venom never put a priority on savin' lives when it came ta' putting out ship fires," Wolf came back, "Didn't mess around with chemicals an' shit. Their system was a bit more direct."

The holographic interface changed to display the damage control screen and the feline selected the fire suppression system icon, scanning over the data that appeared as a smirk spread across his face.

"_Oh_," Panther grinned, "Clever."

"All we have ta' do is seal off the frame they're in and activate it. Doubt they'll be prepared for it, I don't think they know we're on the bridge. Tha' team at the bottom of tha' command tower's gonna be an issue," Wolf muttered.

"The frames are pretty tight," Panther concurred, "Going to be hard to get the whole fire team in one."

"Follow each team on tha' holocams," Wolf ordered, walking down from the platform and making his way towards the stairwell that led to the bridge's main entrance, "We gotta time it so each team gets taken out around tha' same time or they might get wise an' be prepared for it."

"Where are _you _going?" Panther examined.

"Downstairs," Wolf said, "Gonna say hi to our new friends an' invite them into a trap. Stay in contact an' see how much ya' can fool with tha' lights an' ventilation systems."

"Be careful, Wolf."

"Just follow me on tha' holocams an' wait for my signal," the StarWolf leader dismissed, "Make sure I don't end up floatin' home with 'em."

* * *

Fox was still blanking on ideas, but he knew he had to make it to the stairwell up the command tower if there was to be any chance of pulling out a victory. Krystal was somewhere up there according to the map data on his scouter and Falco too, along with possibly all of StarWolf by now. In between him and his goal were soon to be two teams of eight Commonwealth Marines, and odds were that Gillian Morrow ordered them to shoot first, shoot some more and ask questions after. His brain scrambled to come up with a way to get past them that did not involve lethal force.

Both his father and Peppy began their careers in the Commonwealth Marine Corps before transferring to the Cornerian Flight Academy, and James McCloud hosted banquets for the families of Marines every year until he died. Shooting at soldiers of his government, even if they shot first, was practically inconceivable.

Perhaps Morrow had known that when she sent them in after him.

He followed the small map displayed on the lower corner of his green scouter, watching icon for Krystal's location data get closer. Fox walked through a doorway into a large room with a terraced second level accessible through a set of stairs near the end.

Spread out around the room on both the ground level and the upper terrace were dozens of dioramas, display cases and holographic exhibits, while an enormous red banner with the∀ symbol of the Venomian Empire of Andross hung from the ceiling. Fox spotted statues and busts of Andross staring at him from under a fine layer of dust, mannequins in blood red suits of Venomian armor, and scale models of _Zeram_-class cruisers and other Venomian Navy ships. Near the back, a holographic presentation explained the need for Lylat to be 'equalized through retribution' in Andross' vision, repeating a loop that had presumably run for the past six years as ship drifted. The moment Fox had entered, the room was filled with faint sounds of "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," the foreboding Venomian planetary anthem that no one seemed to find threatening in the years leading up to the Lylat War.

Fox was lost for a few moments in memories of almost a decade ago, entranced by this museum of tyranny and hatred that he'd helped stop. Then he heard a low rumble as a large black shape passed over one of the room's transparisteel viewports and began to slowly hover until it was just over the hull plating that made up the ceiling of the museum room.

The sucking thump of a breach umbilical attaching to the hull confirmed it for Fox, and he looked over the map data in his scouter as his pulse began to pick up. Entry into the stairwell that Krystal was moving through was up ahead, he would need to get up to the second level and travel down a short corridor to reach it.

"Fox, you need to move," Peppy's troubled voice came over the comlink, "It looks like one of the fire teams is cutting into the hull right on top of you."

There was a dull grinding before Fox even took his first step, then a stream of sparks began to shoot out of the ceiling, quickly drawing a rectangle in the thick durasteel above. He sprinted across the room, darting in between display cases and exhibits, but he knew the stairs to the second level were too far before he'd made it halfway. He didn't have an option aside from _run_, didn't have a plan except _hide_, and he quickly dove under the gray and red wings of a Venomian Manta fighter on display off to the side of the room.

Fox had no sooner finished concealing himself under the starfighter when a thick square of hull plating crashed down onto a glass case displaying a Venomian battle droid, shattering it into millions of pieces and sprawling the inactive droid across the floor. He stared out from under the ship's wing as four soldiers descended on liquid monofilament cables through the hole in the ceiling, touching the floor in unison and reeling their cables into reservoirs on their belts. The Commonwealth Marines were dressed in black boots and gauntlets and steel blue blast-vests over uniforms of the same color, thick belts heavy with tools and weapons, and distinctive dark blue helmets that curved around the backs of their necks with a pair of horn-like protrusions at the top to accommodate their ears. Reflective visors on the helmets obscured each Marine's eyes, and they all pulled ArmsCor A-280 blaster rifles from behind their backs and cocked the safeties off as they took a few steps back. A second or so later, another four Marines rappelled down into the room to join the first group, drawing rifles with loud clicks. Aside from one enhydra and an avian with a helmet modified to fit his anatomy, they were all canines, and all male aside from one light-furred female. None of them looked like they were in a talking mood.

"Echo team is at point insertion," one Marine said quietly into a comlink on his helmet, "No hostile contact. Proceeding to objective. Moore, you're on point."

The eight Marines brought up their blaster rifles and began to stride cautiously through the exhibits and display cases, only their boots visible to Fox under the starfighter's wing.

He swallowed quietly and considered his next move, knowing that his options were diminishing by the second.


	19. Public Enemies

**-Public Enemies-**

He had to hand it to the fuzzball: he definitely felt like he was playing things smarter without the alcohol. If Falco hadn't been going it completely sober for the past two days, he might've been helpless to resist the urge to come at Panther Caruso guns blazing in the engine room. Given his hatred for the conceited cat, the urge was strong enough as it was.

Instead of giving into it, he'd let Panther reactivate the _Xerxes_' propulsion systems and tailed him through the ship all the way to the command tower. It had been a challenge to avoid detection, and he'd been forced to take the stairs when Panther got into a turbolift, but he figured it would pay off to be standing by, undetected near the bridge when Fox was ready to take it from StarWolf rather than getting caught up in a fight. He'd even maintained radio silence just in case StarWolf had managed to hack their comms channel (that always seemed to happen when they ran into them), and Falco was starting to feel a tinge of pride at changing up his tactics to stay unpredictable.

This was, of course, until the fleet of CSB ships appeared through the viewport and the fire team of Commonwealth Marines cut through the hull. Now, as he pushed himself further into the corner of the wall behind a metal crate, Falco just felt trapped.

The fire team of soldiers didn't make much noise as they moved, stalking slowly down the short corridor near what he figured were a swathe of officers quarters. There were six canines, one reptilian and one huge motherfucker of an equine, all in dark steel blue with their eyes concealed behind reflective visors, and each of them carried a nasty looking automatic blaster rifle. Just before he fully hid himself back behind the crate, he spotted a small holocamera in the ceiling slowly following the Marine squad.

Falco breathed out through the nostrils in his beak as quietly as he could, but the whistling sound of air moving through the bony holes still sounded loud enough for the threat detection systems in the Marines' helmets to pick up. He held his knees up against his chest and gripped hard onto his blaster pistol, even though it would be about as useful as a slingshot against eight hardcore soldiers with body armor and assault rifles.

Hell, a slingshot might even be more useful: It still allowed the possibility that the Marines would laugh him off as a non-threat.

"Kilo team proceeding to objective," a canine Marine at the front of the group muttered into his helmet comlink, and Falco was stunned at how clearly he could hear the soldier's words before he realized that they were also coming in faintly through the comlink in his headset. The Marines must've been using a public channel, or at least one that his headset could pick up.

"Kilo team, Den Mother recommends using flashbangs on the bridge to minimize collateral damage," another voice came over Falco's comm. His free hand gripped tightly onto his leg, hoping that the Marines wouldn't pick up feedback or hear his headset. The shadows of his hiding place suddenly got a lot darker as the equine soldier crept heavily by, and Falco slouched down further towards the floor.

"Den Mother needs to stop micromanaging. She nags like a rabbit grandma," one of the Marines grumbled.

"Secure that shit, Hudson," another rebuked, "She might be listening."

That was when Falco felt it. Rising up his throat, like electric current. He clamped his beak shut and tried to swallow, hoping the feeling would go back down long enough for the Marines to pass.

"I don't work for the CSB," Hudson shrugged, "My CO's name is Ronson, pretty sure he's yours, too."

"And Ronson's CO reports to _her_. We _all _work for the CSB now, it's not some temp job. You might wanna watch your mouth, I hear bad things happen to people who piss the Director off," the second shot back.

Falco was too late to stop the instinctive inhalation of breath, feeling it swell in his lungs, and his icy blue eyes bulged with the effort to contain the cough.

"Huh, you mean like the guys _we're _after?" Hudson snorted.

"Both of you cut the chatter," the canine at the front ordered, "You know what, Hudson? You're on point. Maybe that'll shut y-"

The cough came out more like a low grunt or a laugh, but it was still audible enough that all of the Marines fell silent. Falco cursed himself in the moment of tense stillness as eight soldiers scanned the corridor for signs of the sound. He slowly shifted himself, peeking through the crack between the metal crate and the corner in the hallway, seeing the fire team sweeping their guns steadily in all directions at the end of the corridor.

"Switch to thermal," one of the Marines ordered, and each of the soldiers put a hand to their helmets. Just as Falco shoved himself further back into the wall, he caught a glimpse of a grey-furred face with a sharp ear peering around the corner.

"Morrison, you got anything?"

"Negative."

"Carlyle?"

"Maybe...I think I've got someth-"

The loud popping sound of a powerful blaster pierced the corridor, and one of the Marines smashed into the wall with a grunt. Falco heard the other Marines cry out, then the corridor filled with the sound of automatic fire. After a handful of seconds, the firing stopped.

"Advancing!" one of the Marines ordered, and the hallway was filled with the scuffing sound of eight pairs of boots rushing down the corridor.

Falco waited a few moments, then stared down the corridor, finding nothing remaining of the Marines aside from a series of scorchmarks in the bulkheads that led around the corner, where the Marines had pursued their attacker.

The avian breathed out, a smile forming at the edge of his beak in gratitude for his sudden stroke of luck. He cautiously stepped down the hall, making sure to stay in the blind spots of the holocams mounted on the ceiling. Perhaps if he was lucky and kept enough distance, he could tail the Marines all the way up to the bridge. Of course, he had no real idea what to do after that.

But Falco could figure that out when he got there.

He made his way down the corridor, making sure to stay out of sight.

* * *

The Marines were being careful, spreading out through the museum room to make sure it was secure, and Fox knew that he was running out of time. His hiding place under the wing of the Manta fighter wasn't perfect, all it would take the Marines was a switch to thermal vision or even an observant glance to find him. At that point, Fox would be forced to defend himself, and the Marines would kill him.

He wasn't going to let this shake down on terms that weren't his.

There was no time for hesitation. He had to act.

Fox waited for the closest Marine to move past the fighter, then he began to slowly drag himself out from under the wing. Even with the numbing effects of provitate ointment, his wounds were stinging enough to make him wince as he inched out enough to come into a crouch.

Keeping his eye on the Marine, Fox kept low and waddled across the floor, taking cover behind a tall statue of Emperor Andross. He raised his head up as high as he dared, marking the positions of the Marines that he saw. Fox counted seven of them spread out over the museum floor, and he mapped out the twisting route through the exhibits that would bring him close enough to the stairs that he could risk making a run for it. Just as he was about to move towards the next display case he saw the eighth Marine coming up on the other side of the Andross statue, and Fox gritted his teeth and shrank further back. He moved slowly around the pedestal that the statue stood on, always keeping the statue between himself and the oblivious Marine until he'd made his way around to the soldier's rear, watching the canine stalk away from him.

Fox sighed with relief, then crouched down low and waddled over behind a display case of a mannequin wearing a maroon Venomian officer's uniform. He spied his next objective, a scale model of the penal colony complex on Venom that Andross was originally sentenced to, mounted on a large black slab. Seeing none of the Marines looking in his direction, Fox darted across the floor towards the model, swerving around one of the corners to put himself in a better position to move to the next hiding place. As he shifted his feet to move around the model, the sole of his boot made a dull squeak against the floor and he silently cursed as he took cover.

"You hear that?" one of the Marines asked.

"Switch to image enhancement," another instructed, "Thermal and motion track."

Fox mouthed another swear as the Marines began to fumble with their helmets. He would have to move as slow as possible to minimize detection from the soldier's motion tracking suite, but that still wouldn't prevent them seeing him on thermal. He prayed that the slab the model rested on was enough to shield him for the moment, at least.

Carefully, Fox inched his head over the corner of the slab, spotting the Marines slowly scanning the room for signs of body heat or movement. They hadn't appeared to notice him, yet. He inched his hand over the edge of the model, gripping onto a plastic prison guard tower. Firmly but slowly, he pulled it free of the base, thankful that it came away easier than he'd expected, then slid back behind the slab. Fox breathed and silently mouthed a count to three, then quickly threw the model tower high through the air over the soldiers' heads.

The Marines' dark helmets snapped in the direction of the plastic model as it clattered to the ground across the room, Fox darting out over the floor and taking cover behind a diorama of what the completed Imperial Palace complex would've looked like if he hadn't stopped its construction with Andross' death.

"Check it," a Marine ordered, "Weapons free."

Fox looked toward his goal. There was nothing in between him and the stairs to the second level but about six meters of open space. Every moment he waited was a second more for the soldiers to find him.

He breathed out, crouched on the balls of his feet, then burst up into a sprint across the floor.

He'd made it about halfway when one of the Marines shouted, "There!" and the room rang with the sound of automatic blaster fire. Display cases exploded and models caught fire as bright green blaster bolts tore through the air, a few whizzing around Fox as his boots hit the stairs.

"Echo team engage!" someone barked behind him as verdant bolts burned into the walls around the stairs and boots pounded into the ground after him, but Fox was practically to the top by then.

A display case with shelves of Venomian blaster pistols leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs, and Fox threw his shoulder into the side of it with a loud grunt, tipping it downwards.

He heaved once more and shoved into the display case as a pair of Marines began to storm the stairs after him, and the case finally fell forward with a groan. The glass and fragile metal crashed loudly into the stairs and burst open, raining glass and artifacts onto the soldiers below as Fox sprinted between an inactive Decimator battle droid and a model of the Saucerer assault craft.

He saw the doorway out of the room up ahead and he pumped his arms harder, pushing himself faster as the Marines broke through his barricade. The sputtering pop of automatic blaster fire echoed around the room and Fox weaved back and forth around exhibits, giving them as difficult a target as he could as green blaster bolts ripped into the displays and glass all around. A shot flashed by his ear and Fox leapt into the corridor, tearing down the hall nearly oblivious to the whooping alarm and the blinking orange lights that had begun to flash in the ceiling.

He saw it just at the end of the corridor, the doorway to a cramped stairwell lit by almost greenish light, and blaster bolts flashed under his arm and over his shoulder as he ran. The sight of the thick durasteel door sliding down only made him run faster, almost ignoring the blaster shots that miraculously hadn't struck him yet, hearing his breath gasp out of his mouth. A green blaster bolt grazed Fox's elbow, singeing off a tuft of red fur as he threw his legs forward and slid across the floor under the durasteel door, coming to a rest on a landing of the metal staircase just as it slammed shut. Fox could hear the sound of blaster bolts pounding into the door for a second or two, then there was a thudding roar and suddenly all was silent behind the door.

Fox let out a ragged, relieved breath, smiling to himself as he lay on the ground, then a shadow passed over his face as a figure stepped over him.

He looked up into the barrel of a VenArms SK-7 blaster pistol, held in the spidery hand of a chameleon with pale eyes.

"Hello, Fox," Leon Powalski greeted with a thin smile.

Almost instinctively Fox's foot snapped up and nailed Leon between his legs, producing a ringing scream from the reptile as he fired a shot into the wall. Both of Fox's feet plowed into Leon's chest, throwing him against a bulkhead as Fox leapt to full height and rushed at the killer chameleon. Leon's blaster came up and Fox caught his wrist, driving an elbow into his neck and shoving him down the stairs. The reptile tumbled down the steps in a tangle of arms, legs and tail as Fox drew his blaster pistol and opened fire, red needles sparking into the metal around his enemy. Leon gave off two short screams of pain as shots hit him, then oriented himself and disappeared around the corner of the stairwell in a blur of black and green. Fox fired four warning shots into the stairs near where Leon vanished, then waited a few moments for the StarWolf pilot to reemerge. There was no movement, and Fox slowly backed away from the steps with a sigh as a faint dripping sound came to his ears. Blaster pistol still in hand, he glanced around to see a blotch of dark liquid on the upward steps nearby.

He looked closely at the spot, observing that it was a very deep reddish-purple color, then noticed a series of similar spots leading their way up the stairs. Fox began to frown as he saw the liquid smeared on the railing leading up the stairwell, then he heard a series of stumbling footsteps and he thrust his gun down the stairs in preparation for Leon to show himself.

It took him a moment to realize that the footsteps were coming from above, and Fox slowly made his way up the stairs, pistol in hand, following the dark trail as the sounds of movement became clearer and were joined by labored breathing. He came up around the steps, turned and there she was, leaning against the wall with her back to him, bottlebrush tail hanging limply over the floor, her arms wrapped around her midsection. The trail of red-purple blood ended at her feet, the leggings of her armorweave bodysuit shining wet in the greenish glowpanels.

"Krystal," Fox gasped, holstering his gun as the vixen turned to him with her soft face twisted in pain, a weary look in her aqua eyes.

"Oh gods, it's _you_," she groaned, wincing, "It _would _be you..."

"You're hurt," Fox murmured.

"Really now?" Krystal breathed, "I hadn't noticed."

"Let me see," Fox instructed, observing the cuts in her bicep, waist and collarbone before gingerly pulling her hands away from her navel. Dark purplish blood gushed out of a deep hole in her abdomen, close to her left hipbone, and Fox swallowed and put her arm back around the wound.

"We...we have to stop the bleeding," Fox whispered to her, putting his arm around her and supporting some of her weight on his shoulder, feeling the wet warmth as Krystal's blood soaked into his flightsuit and jacket.

"No," she protested softly, sluggishly squirming against him, "No...not...not now."

"Lean against me and try not to speak," he instructed, fumbling in his jacket for what was left of the medkit.

"You don't... understand, he's..." Krystal murmured, lurching into the wall as she tried to push him away, "He's...coming to...finish me..."

"What?" Fox asked, and there was suddenly a loud tapping of swift feet up the stairs. Before he could reach for his blaster, a black and green blur appeared in front of them and solidified into Leon Powalski, his pistol aimed at them both.

Leon's eyes zeroed in on them clinically as a smile spread across his green face.

"I tried to tell you..." Krystal huffed as Fox wrapped his arms tighter around her, "Stupid...hero."

Fox glared at Leon with his jaw tight and green eyes full of steel, and at that moment nothing else mattered. Leon's shoulders heaved once as he gave off a single dry, empty laugh, his tail curling in amusement.

"You know how they say true love never dies?" Leon posited, "Why don't we test that one out?"

* * *

The fire team of Cornerian Marines trudged through the blackened corridor, and Wolf kept himself pressed against the alcove in the darkness. It had been easy to get the fire team's attention and lead them on a chase up the command tower, now he had to shove them fully into his trap. He'd need to be on the top of his game to make this work. He hoped the soldiers couldn't hear his heartbeat.

Panther had shut off all of the lights in this corridor and re-routed a steam pipe to the ventilation grates nearby. Wolf's implant was switched to its electromagnetic field detection filter, the objects around the corridor mapped out as vague shadows as the soldiers and the blaster rifles in their arms glowed bluish-white. The filter "saw" objects based on the ambient electromagnetic fields generated by electronic devices like the Marines' blasters and helmets, and it was generally poor for navigation, but Wolf needed to navigate based on something other than light or heat. His plan hinged on keeping the Marines as blind and disoriented as possible.

"Kilo team, switch to image intensifiers," the soldier at the head of the fire team muttered through the darkness, "Let's find this bastard."

Wolf felt a smile spread across his muzzle as his fists tightened. He was close.

"He can't have gotten far," the Marine said, "We have a positive ID on the target?"

"Command says if it's a lupine he's likely Wolf O'Donnell from StarWolf," another soldier replied.

"Oh, well we've got a celebrity here. Let's give him the star treatment," the Marine chuckled.

The formation had moved into the middle of the corridor, one Marine on point in front, a tight group of five in the middle and two taking up the rear. They still hadn't spotted him in the corner behind them.

It was now or never. Wolf flexed his claws.

"Light 'em up," he whispered into his comlink.

A Marine taking up the rear of the fire team turned in Wolf's direction as the words left his jaws, but then all of the glowpanels in the ceiling burst to life as Panther overloaded them with almost enough power to make them explode. The sudden burst of bright light flooded the image intensifiers in the Marine's helmets and all eight cried out in confusion as they went blind behind their visors, then Wolf charged at the nearest one. His elbow smashed into the Marine's stomach and the dazzled soldier doubled over with a groan, then Wolf shoved the Marine's helmet down as he brought a spiked knee pad into his face with a bony crunch. He pushed the dead soldier to the floor and drew his pistol, firing a shot into another Marine's helmet with a flash of green and then charging into the tight group of five as they cried out in alarm. Wolf plowed through the group of Marines as their vision began to return, shoving them aside and making his way to the soldier at the head of the fire team, who whirled around and raised his blaster rifle. The Marine fired off two green shots that sizzled into Wolf's narcium shoulder armor before the StarWolf leader shoved the end of the rifle away and sliced his claws across the soldier's exposed muzzle.

Wolf kept running, into the doorway that led to the command tower's tactical weapons control suites, shouting "Cover me!" into his comlink.

As the Marines regained their composure and brought their rifles up to aim at Wolf's back, billowing white steam burst out of the ventilation grates near the floor and covered Wolf's escape. He smiled to himself at the cleverness of using steam rather than a smoke grenade, it prevented the Marines from using thermal vision in their helmets to see through it. Now they would just be running blind into his snare.

"Advance!" one of the Marines yelled behind Wolf, and boots began to clap against the metal floors as streaks of green flashed past his shoulders. His feet pounded into the metal and he could see the doorway at the end of the corridor that he needed, throwing himself through it and taking cover behind.

His arm extended around the door frame and fired a green glob of plasma into a Marine's blast-vest, throwing him to the floor as the remaining five Marines opened fire and green blaster bolts rained through the door.

"I've closed the door behind them," Panther announced through the comlink, "Are you clear?"

"Shut tha' door an' vent the fuckers!" Wolf barked over the sounds of automatic blaster fire, and there was a mechanical whine as a heavy durasteel blast door slammed down over the doorway.

The door rumbled as blaster bolts tore into it for a few seconds, then there was a thudding roar as Panther opened the fire suppression system and vented all of the air in the sealed corridor, along with all five of the Marines, out into the vacuum of space.

Wolf pushed away from the doorway as the blast door rolled back up into the ceiling, a smirk running across his face as he beheld the now empty corridor. Even the Commonwealth Marine Corps couldn't stop him today.

"Wolf, what's your status?" Panther came in over the comlink.

"Fine," Wolf replied, "What about the other teams on tha' ship?"

"Both vented as well. One was too distracted chasing McCloud to notice what was happening before it was too late, and I used the automated turrets in the lower corridors to herd the third team into a frame. Good plan," Panther purred.

"We're not done yet," Wolf growled.

"I've narrowed down the ship generating the interdiction field. We have to move quickly but I think if we spool up the warp drives, then power up the weapons grids, we can disable the field and warp away without incurring further damage."

"Good," Wolf nodded, "I'm on my way up. Let's finish this."

He holstered his blaster and began to storm down the corridor, his rough tail slicing the air behind him. Today was _his _day to win. Perhaps being the villain really was what he was meant to be, all along.

For some reason, this thought only made Wolf angry, and he bared his teeth with a snarl.

* * *

Fox could feel Krystal's weak body pressed against him, her blood soaking into his flight suit, but any worry for her fate was dulled by the steel in his emerald eyes as he glared at Leon's pale yellows. The mission, his life, even the state of things between he and Krystal seemed irrelevant now. His entire purpose had condensed into this moment: he would _not _let her die like this.

The courage of Fox's conviction seemed to only amuse the chameleon, and he whimsically pointed the gun back and forth at the two of them as he quietly hummed an upbeat tune. Krystal's labored breathing into the red fur on his neck and the beating of Fox's own heart formed two contrasting rhythms to compete with Leon's hums. He moved the gun back and forth, back and forth between them, a thin pink tongue running across his thin upper lip as he examined them hungrily and stopped humming.

"I don't believe in God, Fox. I guess that's one of the few things I have in common with the majority of people," Leon whispered, "But when someone like me gets blessed with an opportunity such as this, they're tempted to think that not only does God exist, but they're doing Her work. Whether that's true or bullshit, I don't know, but it feels _so _good right now. What about you? Do you feel good, Fox? I'd like you to feel good."

"I feel great, you sadistic prick," Fox returned.

"Super. I always get more pleasure taking the life of someone who enjoys it," Leon hissed, stroking Krystal's shoulder with the barrel of his SK-7 blaster, "It's pretty clear your chicky-poo here isn't enjoying herself, but at least I can see all those good feelings _leak _out of you as you watch her die."

"Point the gun at me, Leon."

"Gladly," Leon retorted, leveling the pistol between Fox's eyes, "You know, Fox, I've often wondered what my life would be like without you in it."

"Aww, well the feeling's mutual," Fox said into the pistol, "Do you really think about me that much?"

"No, just how much of a _distraction_ you've been from things that actually interest me," Leon growled, "And I do so _hate _being distracted."

Fox could feel Krystal's right arm moving slowly down his back, and he looked down at her to see if she was still conscious. He didn't realize what she was doing until he felt her hand move over his tail, slowly towards the holster on her right hip that was hidden from Leon's view by their bodies. The vixen looked up at him from his shoulder with a knowing glance in her aqua eyes. They were glazed over with pain and loss of blood, but she wasn't done fighting _yet_. Fox breathed and stared back down the barrel of Leon's blaster.

"You do know the CSB has a fleet parked outside? They're taking this ship for themselves and they'll kill anyone in the way. Including you."

"Oh no, oh dearie me. Look Fox, I'm _terrified_," the chameleon droned, his tail curling into a spiral, "That just means I need to execute both of you soon and get back to work. Which is a shame, I always prefer to take my time and given our history it feels necessary to play with your blood and take a souvenir from your corpse. But you know what? I think I'll live with that. You won't, of course, but that's kind of the whole point. Now, if I could just decide which of you I'd like to kill first...you know what? I think-"

"You talk too much," Krystal whispered as she brought up a DC-15 blaster pistol.

"DON'T be stupid!" Leon snapped as he grabbed Krystal's wrist and pressed his gun to her cheek.

"Likewise," Fox growled as he put his EE-40 up to the chameleon's eye.

The StarWolf pilot's eye swiveled on its stalk to look down Fox's barrel as his other eye trained on Krystal. His amused smirk had warped into a bemused grimace.

"Weee! Turning tables... oh yes, very fun," Leon taunted, his whip-like tail slithering low across the ground towards Fox.

"Try anything with the tail and I blow your head off," Fox promised.

"Really now?" Leon demanded, pressing his pistol deeper into Krystal's face, "You do know how to take the joy out of things. Let's see how this shakes down now. Maybe my tail's faster than you think. I get the gun out of your hand, put a hole in her skull and blast you to bits. Maybe we just stand here pointing guns at each other until the Marines come and shoot us all. Maybe the Marines don't come, and we just stand here until she bleeds to death. Maybe I get tired of standing here, I shoot her, then you shoot me. Get the picture? No matter what, she dies."

"Maybe I just shoot you first."

"I don't think you'll do that," Leon shrugged, "You're too much of a good guy to just kill me like _that. _What if I pull the trigger as a reflex action before I die? Have you even considered that I don't _care_ what happens to me?"

"I'll take my chances," Fox said, "As much as you pretend otherwise, you're not ready to die. If you were, you would've pulled that trigger by now."

The chameleon's face fell and his tail drooped slightly towards the floor. Fox's emerald eyes remained hard and unchanging.

"Let go of her. _Now_," Fox growled.

Leon's spidery hand released Krystal's wrist and he took a step back, but his pistol was still aimed at her face. Krystal took the opportunity to point her gun at Leon's chest. The reptile looked back and forth between the two of them, the frown on his lips deepening.

"You cunts," Leon spat.

The chameleon dropped to the floor and his tail lashed out at them both, catching Fox in the stomach and throwing him against the wall. He and Krystal opened fire with red and blue laser bolts as Leon disappeared down the stairwell in a blur of black and green. They kept firing after Leon and stood aiming their pistols down the stairs for a few more seconds, but it was clear that the assassin was gone.

They breathed and looked at each other, Krystal pushing her blaster into the holster at her hip. She winced and clapped a hand against the wound in her abdomen, tried to take a step only to stumble forward and grab the railing for support. Fox put her arm around his shoulder to hold her up, feeling her body against his, and after a few seconds she stopped resisting.

"It's okay," Fox said, "You're safe. Now we can take care of you."

"Oh, gods, this is pathetic," Krystal groaned, "I don't need you to...take care of me."

"Try not to talk," Fox instructed, taking the first-aid kit out of his jacket and snapping it open. He grimaced at the sight and wished he hadn't used up so much to treat himself earlier.

"I'm almost out of provitate and we'll have to make do with regular bandage tape," Fox murmured, opening the container of provitate salve and collecting most of what was left in a glob on his fingertips, "But it should be enough to stop the bleeding for now."

"_Shianta_, that stings," Krystal murmured as Fox began to slather the ointment on her wound, "If I knew... this was going to happen I might've just, ah... put myself out of my misery...Gods, this is humiliating."

"I said try not to talk," Fox said as he grabbed the bandage tape.

It didn't work quite as well as Fox had hoped. The provitate was working to heal her wound, but the bandage tape that he'd wrapped around her torso didn't seem to be stopping the bleeding that much. Already a purplish-red stain was darkening through the binding. He considered using the stim shot he still had to give her a boost enough to move better, but he decided to save it for when she might need it more later.

"That'll do for now," he sighed, "Lean on me, I'll help you walk. We're going to move up the stairs, there should be a med-bay or something in the command tower we can use. I'll seal you in once you're stable and try to get with Falco to take the bridge. There's still a chance."

"Ever the optimist...even as the world crumbles around you," Krystal huffed.

"I lost my optimism a while ago," Fox said with a shake of his head as he wrapped his left arm around her torso and guided her up the stairs, "I just don't give up. You know that."

"Too well," the vixen murmured.

At that moment, Fox could just make out her smell, like forest rain in the silky blue hair that fell down in locks over the back of her head. Even after everything, she still smelled like Krystal.

"Don't act like... you're not _enjoying _this," she grunted, "After all my talk that I don't need anyone to save me...here I am. Damsel in distress...I can't seem to get away from it...around you."

"Believe it or not, I never _enjoyed _saving you. Especially now," Fox remarked, leading them up another step, "Can't say I'm a big fan of Kursed."

Krystal shrugged, a thin smile forming across her muzzle.

"I've been a very bad girl, haven't I?"

"You're not a bad girl. You're a fantastic girl. My favorite girl in the galaxy," Fox whispered, "It's just that, lately, you've been a huge bitch."

Krystal's mouth erupted with laughter, devolving into a grunting cough as she winced and clutched her side.

"Oh, don't make me laugh, damn you," the vixen moaned, "That's the last thing I want."

Fox helped her up another step.

* * *

Gillian Morrow hadn't moved from her seat, watching the fighters swarm over the _Xerxes_ as progress reports came in from the rest of the fleet. When she'd ordered the attack, she could barely suppress the smile on her face. The she-wolf wasn't smiling now.

"Where are those fire teams, Lieutenant?" Morrow snarled, "I was under the impression these were trained Marines! I am not impressed."

"Director, it's just been confirmed..." the feline lieutenant at the comms station answered hesitantly, "We've lost Kilo team, Echo team and Bravo team. They've been vented into space."

The fur on the back of the white wolf's head began to prickle as she crossed her legs.

"Have three more teams assembled on drop ships and infiltrate the ship. This time have them equipped with pressure suits, personal deflector shield generators and tactical droi-"

"Director, energy signatures confirm the ship's warp drives are spooling up," a leporid officer in a blue uniform announced.

"As long as the interdiction field on the _Jeremiad _is active, that ship isn't going anywhere. Don't waste your breath or my time with irrelevant data," Morrow rebuked, her golden eyes narrowing as she glared at the ship. Despite her dismissal, the white wolf's mind began to turn.

Whoever was in control of the _Xerxes_ had to know that there was an artificial gravity well being generated that would fool the warp drive's failsafe systems and prevent it from going to light speed. Though some heavily-modified ships like the _Great Fox _could turn off those systems, attempting to warp a ship the _Xerxes_' size within a significant gravity well could overload the warp core and cause a catastrauphic meltdown. There was no way the ship's computer would even allow it to budge.

So _why _would they power up the warp drives?

Morrow looked slowly over to Agent Rupert Frost, standing rigidly still at the corner of the tactical plot table. He hadn't said a word since she'd silenced him at the beginning of the attack.

"If we're to believe Commander McCloud, his team isn't on the bridge controlling the ship...do we have intel suggesting who is?" Morrow inquired.

"Last reports from Kilo team put Wolf O'Donnell in the command tower," Frost answered, "He's unlikely to negotiate."

"He wouldn't be foolish enough to..." Morrow trailed off, turning back to the viewport and the _Xerxes_. Thoughts ran through her head and her eyes went wide, and she was almost expecting it when Captain Lane announced that the ship's weapons were powering up.

"Establish contact with the bridge of the ship, I want to speak with whoever is in control," Morrow commanded, gritting her teeth.

A number of officers exchanged looks around the CIC and Captain Lane adjusted the tie on his uniform.

"Madam Director, even without a full crew, the automatic targeting systems on that ship mean that most of its weapons systems still pose a danger to the fleet. I recommend firing warning shots and bombing runs to disable the shield-"

"That was an _order_, Captain," the she-wolf snarled, "_I _am in command here and that ship will not be damaged unless I authorize it. If it proves to be unavoidable, we have fighters and bombers in position to react quickly enough that the ship won't pose a dan-"

At that moment Gillian Morrow saw the twinkling flashes of distant explosions as fighters surrounding the _Xerxes _were blasted apart by point-defense laser cannons on the warship's hull. Her jaw fell slack as alarms began to whistle and officers cried out warnings throughout the CIC, and it wasn't until the she-wolf saw the twenty four twin pulse laser turrets rotating to face the fleet that she realized her costly mistake.

"All ships open fire!" Morrow roared, and the scene outside the viewport changed from a painted landscape to a pyrotechnics display.

The missile pods of the _Xerxes _blossomed with gray smoke like a bush of wildflowers, dozens of ship-to-ship missiles streaking across the blackness of space towards the CSB Enforcement Fleet as the explosions of Cornerian fighters torn apart by laser fire popped all around the capital ship. Captain Lane's commands of attack were lost in the buzz of voices and activity as the Cornerian ships spoke back, _Sphyrna_-class corvettes spitting clouds of green turbolaser blasts and squads of fighters screaming from the mouths of _Acropolis-_class ships as the _Trafalguis-_class cruisers cut thick ribbons of bright blue across the void with their assault pulse lasers. Hundreds of laser blasts peppered into the deflector shield as the twelve blue particle beams seared across it, the shield reacting visibly with a greenish hue appearing in the invisible bubble at every impact point. The first volley from the CSB fleet ended without penetrating the shields and before Captain Lane could give the order for another the CIC rang with warnings to brace for impact as the ship-to-ship missiles from the _Xerxes _reached their targets.

Morrow felt a trembling in her chair and a rumble from the depths of the _Jeremiad _as the missiles tore through the shields of her fleet's ships, blasting apart _Sphyrna_-class frigates or detonating in the depths of an _Acropolis_-class' launch bay. Another missile impacted the bow of _Jeremiad_'s sister ship _Adrasteia_, producing a crackling burst of fire and smoke from the _Trafalguis_-class.

Morrow found herself yelling, howling at the officers under her command but no one seemed to be listening to her or otherwise they would be winning, and in the cacophony of voices the pulse lasers of the _Xerxes _came to life and tore crimson particle beams across the blackness. Alarms wailed and the ship rumbled as the viewport filled with dozens of red beams burning through the _Jeremiad_'s deflector shields and Gillian Morrow leapt out of her seat as distressed officers screamed desperate orders.

She bellowed out a command that was lost in the gaggle of voices, then the shields of the _Jeremiad_ died and the ship rang with an enormous explosion as glowpanels and holographic interfaces flickered. The ship lurched forward and Gillian Morrow was thrown off her feet into a heap on the floor.

The CSB Director brought her head up, golden eyes swollen and her immaculate fur tousled as she bared her teeth in fury. The CIC rang with alarms and officers that had been thrown from their stations were scrambling back to their posts as damage readout holograms reported that the interdiction field generator had been destroyed along with most of the starboard engine and weapons nacelle. She glared through the viewport to see the _Xerxes _floating motionless in space as the _Scarred Hand _scratched into its shields with pulse laser fire, and she was about to call out an order when the ship's large warp drive engines began to glow yellow. Still lying on the floor, Gillian Morrow's face fell limp with disbelief as she watched her prize flash away into the starry abyss.

* * *

The swirling black and white blur of warp speeds through the viewport was replaced by the standard starry void as the ship dropped out of warp with an almost undetectable shudder. The small warp jump took barely a dozen seconds, but at the _Xerxes_' speed Wolf knew they'd traveled far enough to prevent the CSB from plotting their trajectory. He was also betting that they wouldn't be too eager to follow anyway, given the trouncing they'd received at StarWolf's hands.

A grin of sharp teeth spread across his muzzle and Wolf began to cackle as he exchanged looks with an equally elated Panther.

"Splendidly played, Wolf, damn good job," the feline remarked, extending his paw, "They're going to be talking about this for decades."

"Fuckin' A, we just kicked tha' shit outta the CSB," Wolf barked, shaking Panther's hand, "Try _centuries_."

"Haha. More notoriety, a _much _bigger bank account, and surely more money on our heads when everything is done for. I suppose it's a fair trade," Panther chuckled, his black tail twitching behind him as he gazed down at the progress bar on the money transfer. It was still only five percent full, but that five percent still amounted to more Liat than StarWolf had _ever _made. Even if they ended things right now and gave IG-N 96 an equal share, every member of StarWolf was a billionaire. On top of it all, they had control of the most powerful ship in the Lylat System. If they decided to just take all of it and keep the ship, how the hell could Connolly or anyone else hope to stop them?

Wolf was winning, if he hadn't already won.

But if that was true, why was the pride and the thrill of victory fading so fast?

He had assured that no one would ever forget Wolf O'Donnell or Team StarWolf. They would be remembered forever as the best at what they did.

Icons.

Legends.

Villains. Thugs. At the end of everything, hated, and even their peers in the underworld would rejoice at their deaths. And Wolf couldn't understand why that mattered to him. It hadn't in the past. He might've had second thoughts lately, but even so something felt different now.

He'd been able to justify his actions as just doing what he was good at. He was doing what he was meant to do by any means necessary, and the only reason he was on the side of the conquerors and the criminals was because he was never given the chance to be a hero. It was never Wolf's choice, and he could live with being the villain if there was nothing he could've done to change it.

But as he stood in this last remnant of the Venomian Empire, all Wolf could think about was the mountains of bodies. All the people that had died to get him here, and not just the ones that had died on this contract. All of them, from his days as the leader of Andross' personal hit squad, to the Marines he'd vented into space to the confused blue eyes of the young boy on Aquas to all of the bodies in between. Even all the way back to his brothers, Remus and Wedge. How many people had Wolf killed to get to this point? He didn't even know.

He hadn't really thought about it until now, and not knowing made him uncomfortable. Wolf liked to think that he didn't specifically aim to kill, it just tended to happen. His goal was always to _beat _his opponents, not _kill _them. But he'd killed more people than he could even remember.

The weight in his chest was back, and it was heavier than before.

If his role in life was never his choice, was he still responsible for all the death he'd caused? It was naïve to say no, of that Wolf was certain.

As he looked at the progress bar counting up millions of Liat every second, all he could think of was what Fox had said when Wolf asked if he could be blamed for proving wrong everyone that had denied him the life he wanted.

_No_, the StarFox leader had replied, _I blame you for all the lives you destroyed in the process_.

"Ahh, there we are," Panther reported, "The _Lone Wolf _just dropped out of warp. Looks like IG's slave program worked. The _Great Fox_ has arrived, too...Wolf? Wolf, is something wrong?"

Wolf barely heard him. His enemy's words had finally sunken in. In his quest to prove wrong everyone that said he was the _bad kid_, just a worthless piece of _wolf-trash_, Wolf had actually proven all of them right. And he'd done it through choices that were entirely his own.

His tail drooped down limply, and his breaths were coming out in ragged, quiet gasps. He might've considered something like this in the past, but never before had it hit him in such a way. McCloud had seen right through him and hit where he was weak.

McCloud.

Wolf looked up and his jaw tightened, clawed fingers gripping together tightly, then he stepped up to the console and summoned up the weapons grid controls.

"Wolf...?" Panther inquired, "What are you doing?"

Wolf didn't respond. All he could think of was how much McCloud needed to be silenced.

The holographic display changed to reveal dozens of weapons read-outs, but a blinking icon labeled **Missile Silo 6-7: Special Ordinance Armed **caught his eye. He selected the icon and watched it change, then requested more information. The console displayed in three dimensional orange letters: **Special Ordinance Project 1138: Omotanium-Deuterium Fusion Singularity Device**.

A crooked smirk spread across Wolf's face, and he armed the device and entered the current coordinates of the _Great Fox _as the target. The interface changed, and there appeared a large red icon labeled **Launch**.

Part of Wolf wanted to press it immediately, but his clawed finger slowly came away from the icon and called up the intercom system that was integrated into most of the ship's interior. Wherever Fox was on the ship, he would hear him.

"Wolf, this doesn't look like the best idea. We're doing exceptionally well right now, let's think this through a bit more," Panther remarked slowly.

"Shut up, Panther," Wolf growled, activating the system. He could hear the corridors of the ship echoing with feedback, and he leaned close to the interface so that his words were clear.

"Hey, McCloud. I know you can hear me," Wolf said roughly.

He waited a few moments, then Fox McCloud's voice resonated from the console, "I guess that was you who opened fire on the CSB fleet?"

"That's right," Wolf smiled cruelly, "Now we're all alone again. Just tha' two of us. And ya know what, McCloud? I've been thinkin'. I've been thinkin' maybe you're right, maybe I deserve all tha' rotten hands I've been dealt. Maybe I am just a _bad person_. After all, would a good person tear open a black hole right under your mother ship?"

There were a few seconds of silence that Wolf relished, then Fox's voice came back urgently, "Wolf, don't-"

"Don't _what_?" Wolf demanded, "Kill your friends, destroy your home? Why not? I'm tha' _bad_ guy, remember?"

"No! Wolf, listen to me: You don't have to do this!"

The seconds of silence felt like they had actual weight.

Wolf stood there and listened to his own breathing. Through the console, he could just hear Fox McCloud breathing nervously as well, as if they were in the same room. Wolf imagined that Fox was standing right across from him, looking at him and breathing as his clawed finger hovered over the launch button. He wasn't sure how long he stood there listening to both of them breathe.

"You go to hell, McCloud," Wolf finally said, then he pressed the button.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, there you go, guys, what do you think? How's it tying together? How's it going to end? Lemme know what you think, because there's only **ONE CHAPTER LEFT**. It's already written and it'll be coming soon. Keep an eye out - TU


	20. Beyond Here Lies Nothing

**-Beyond Here Lies Nothing-**

A hoarse rumble sounded from the depths of the _Xerxes_, and Wolf watched the missile erupt out of its silo and streak through the blackness of space with a trail of white. He felt no regret now, no attachment to the challenge that Fox McCloud had brought to his life. He wanted his enemy to suffer, and he wanted him to die, and as he saw the missile lancing toward the distant wings of the _Great Fox _he felt justified. If Wolf was nothing more than the villain and Fox nothing more than the hero, there was no more novelty left between them and it had gone on for too long.

Right now, Wolf was ready for it to end.

"A little cold-blooded, don't you think, Wolf?" Panther muttered as he stepped down from the platform and put a kretek to his lips, "I can't say I have the balls to do that."

Wolf didn't even look at Panther, he crossed his arms and stared with one hard lavender eye and one blue cybernetic implant at the **Time to Impact** countdown that told him the missile would reach its target in three minutes. A storm raged around his mind and even the _Great Fox_'s imminent destruction didn't seem to calm his anger and confusion. He almost didn't notice the choked cry of alarm that Panther produced behind him.

Wolf slowly turned around to see Panther struggling in a chokehold, his golden eyes engorged as Falco Lombardi held a blaster pistol to the side of his head. The avian's cool blue eyes were narrowed with focus at the StarWolf leader, and Wolf's eyebrow cocked upwards in amusement.

"Abort the missile," Falco said.

"Or what? Ya' gonna kill him?" Wolf sneered.

"Him an' you."

"Then nut up an' do it, scissor-lips," Wolf menaced, "You're borin' me."

Panther made a few gurgling noises that Wolf assumed were sounds of outrage, and he chuckled as his rough tail swished through the air behind him. Falco's lower jaw tightened and he swallowed, digging the blaster into Panther's temple.

"Better make up your mind soon, Lombardi," Wolf growled, "In about two minutes it won't make a difference."

Falco's arm extended and leveled the pistol at Wolf, then Panther elbowed the avian in the stomach and slipped out of the chokehold.

"Take care of him," Wolf instructed, "I wanna enjoy the view this time."

Just as he began to turn around, Falco caught Panther's first punch and dragged him off balance, throwing him to the floor and straddling him. Falco began spitting insults at Panther and punching him repeatedly in the face as the feline yelled out in the struggle.

"Oh goddammit," Wolf snapped, leaping over the railing from the command console onto the floor, "I gotta fuckin' do everything."

Something on the console began to beep in alarm, but Wolf was already halfway to Falco and he charged forward with his boots stomping into the metal. His leg lashed out in a kick to the back of Falco's head and the avian turned and caught Wolf's boot in his arms. Wolf grinned, then hopped up with his other leg and snapped a kick into Falco's beak. He hit the metal floor on his side and got on all fours as Falco rolled across the floor, coming up on his haunches and rising to full height. Wolf leapt up and bared his teeth as Falco ran towards him, hopping over Panther's disoriented form. He swiped at the avian's face with his claws, and he saw Falco's hand whip out his blaster pistol in time to turn his blast-vest toward the pilot. Falco blocked and Wolf's claws dug into his forearm, then the avian shoved the pistol into Wolf's vest and pulled the trigger. A loud pop and a flash of blue light threw Wolf onto his back with a cry, and as he came to a rest he could smell his scorched blast-vest. It didn't feel like anything had made it through.

He lurched up to Falco at the command console, the alarm still beeping, and he drew his gun as the avian turned to see him. Falco dove out of the way as a green plasma bolt tore into the command console, several holographic interfaces sizzling away with a burst of sparks. Wolf snarled as Falco darted towards the silver doors to the turbolift shaft, firing off another shot that tore into the wall as Falco disappeared through the automatic doors. He groggily got up to his feet, still disoriented from the point-blank shot to his vest, and made his way towards the doors as Panther got up from the floor. The doors slid open and Wolf saw the doors to the now-inoperable turbolift, as well as a smaller door to the side that led to a corridor in the command tower.

Wolf cursed, but turned back towards the bridge. He could chase Lombardi, but there were other, more important things to worry about.

"Umm, Wolf? You should see this," Panther remarked from the command console.

"What?" Wolf growled as he made his way towards Panther.

"Well, to start, I'm not sure what the progress of the money transfer is since you _shot _that part of the console. You might've stopped any further transfers. But there's also this, which can't bode well," Panther gestured as Wolf climbed up to the command console platform.

Wolf looked down at the information displays for the singularity device missile, finding that the **Time to Impact **countdown had disappeared. In its place was the warning **Missile Guidance Error! Premature fusion reaction, critical mass imminent!**

Wolf looked up to see that the white trail of the missile had curved off from its straight course towards the _Great Fox_, on a drastic turn off to the side. A growl escaped Wolf's jaws as Panther remarked, "Is it something Lombardi did? Or is the weapon itself just a dud? By the way...what the _fuck _was that 'nut up and do it' shit? You were going to let him kill me, weren't you? I can't beli-"

A bright, blinding light erupted through the bridge's viewport, so harsh that Panther and Wolf had to turn away until the flash faded after a few moments. The viewport's filter systems kicked in and the light disappeared as the two were finally able to make out an enormous ball of white-yellow fire blazing off the starboard side of the ship. The fireball had to be at least the size of a small moon.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Panther murmured.

* * *

"Try to avoid the holocams," Fox whispered, leading Krystal along the wall of the corridor, following the map in his scouter, "We're not far from the med-bay."

"Huhh...I'm dead weight. Slowing you down," Krystal mumbled, her steps less coordinated as she held onto Fox's neck for support, "What about..._Great Fox_?"

"I don't know," Fox replied, trying to keep his voice steady, "Last transmission, Peppy said the missile was locked on and they were trying to make an emergency jump, then it cut out."

He tried to focus all his attention on Krystal. It was easier to think about saving her than what might've happened to Peppy and Slippy. The bandages around Krystal's waist were saturated with reddish-purple and occasionally dripped, her eyes were unfocused and she'd had a lot more trouble walking. He had to get her to a medbay while she could still move.

"This could go faster if you'd let me carry you," Fox said, his eyes following his scouter.

"I'm sure you'd like that," the vixen huffed.

"This is about stopping you from bleeding to death."

"I don't know...why you're so determined... after what I've done to you," Krystal whispered.

Fox looked down at her, and thought there was something familiar in the aqua-colored eyes.

"I'm over it. We make bad decisions. Life goes on with or without us. That's why we keep going. I save people. It's the best part of the job," he answered.

"There's the Fox I remember..." Krystal whispered.

"The one that broke your heart?" Fox inquired, looking straight ahead and trying to remain expressionless.

"No," the vixen said, "The Fox before that one. During that...year and a half after Sauria. Before the Aparoids? Do you remember him?"

"I remember him. He knew this girl named Krystal. He really had a thing for her. Do you remember her?"

The vixen let out a huff of a laugh, a twisted smile momentarily twitching across her face as she nodded.

"I liked that girl, Krystal," Fox smiled, guiding her forward a step.

"I liked that Fox. You...you reminded me of him... back there," Krystal smiled, looking up at him.

He looked down at her and returned the smile, then Krystal's face fell and she looked back down at the ground.

"Don't...don't read too much into that," the vixen whispered to the floor, "I've lost a lot of blood."

There was a crackling in Fox's headset comlink, then he heard a familiar voice in his ears.

"Peppy!" Fox called, "Is everyone alright?"

"We're fine, Fox," Peppy returned, "It was a close one. The warp drive was still hot from the last jump and we couldn't get it to spool back up. Then the missile veered off before it got halfway out from the _Xerxes_. We were sensor jamming the hell out of it, so maybe we got through, our jammer is more than a decade younger than the guidance system had to be."

"So it just fell out of range? Andross' superweapon was a dud?" Fox inquired.

"Not exactly. It exploded. Or detonated or whatever. Caused a radiation surge, that's what knocked out comms for a bit."

"What am I missing, Peppy?" Fox inquired, "They're aren't any windows on this corridor."

"It's formed some sort of massive plasma sphere. It's basically a star, but it's too small. About the size of a dwarf planet," Peppy replied, "Slippy's says there's all kind of crazy shit going on with it. Energetic readings started off the charts, but they keep fluctuating, generally getting lower, but the star keeps emitting light. It's generating a lot more gravity than it should. It might not be a dud."

"Keep me updated on it," Fox said into his microphone, "I've got Krystal with me. She's injured pretty bad. I'm finding a med-bay, then I'm making my way to the bridge."

"Fox, we should consider pulling out. Even if we got control of the ship, how are we going to give it to Morrow now? Who knows what she'll do?"

"We can figure that out when we have the bridge; if we pull out then StarWolf gives this ship to someone maybe worse than Morrow. Right now, Krystal needs to get to a med-bay, and that's where I'm taking her," Fox said, "Have you found Falco?"

"Yeah. He was at the bridge. Wolf and Panther are up there, probably dug in pretty deep by now. He's making his way down through the command tower. I'll send him to your location."

"Tell me if anything changes with the protostar. Fox out," he replied, gripping Krystal's waist tighter as she'd slipped out of his arms a bit, and kept walking her down the hallway.

"It'd be so much easier if it just ended like this," Krystal whispered, "I'd much rather see it end than all the ways it can go on."

"Too bad," Fox shrugged, "You're getting saved. No choice in the matter."

"See? There it is," she said faintly, "Always controlling, always the hero who knows what's best and has to come in to save everyone. There's the Fox that made a beast of me."

"I was trying to be funny and I'm trying to help you," he retorted, his orange fur prickling, "I've heard hero enough times that its an insult now. I don't put myself on a pedestal, I do my best, and sometimes I fuck up. That's all there is to it. I'm helping you because I can."

Krystal sniffed, her head rolling about on her shoulders. Fox hoped she wasn't getting delirious.

"You know, I think in death, I'm getting another gift. I feel like I can see the future, Fox. Do you know what I see?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

"I...don't get it. I thought the bomb was supposed to make a black hole," Panther remarked, staring out the viewport at the enormously glowing, pulsating orb that had formed off the starboard bow of the _Xerxes_, "That looks like a star. It's the opposite of a black hole."

"Andross didn't even test this thing, so who knows? Maybe it just does this instead. Just get tha' transfer back online" Wolf muttered, stepping away from the command console and pressing a clawed finger to the side of his implant.

"IG, ya' got any thoughts on this?" Wolf inquired.

"**Given that I am still in the hangar bay, my Lord, there is only so much insight I can offer**," the android's voice came back, "**Accessing what little diagnostic functions I can by remote, I can determine that this appears to be a sustained fusion reaction, similar to a main sequence star, however the energy of these reactions do not radiate a proportionate amount of heat and light. Instead, it appears that the object is generating an increasingly large mass-shadow with a proportionate gravitational force**."

"Meaning what?"

"**The description of the device lists deuterium and omotanium among the primary fusion reactants. Deuterium is a heavier isotope of hydrogen, the primary element in stellar fusion, while omotanium is the refined form of orichalcum used to generate artificial gravity fields. I would posit that Andross constructed this device with the intent that it would simulate a massive star's lifespan on a much shorter, smaller scale, and for tactical purpose**," IG replied.

"Is it dangerous?"

"**It's a Venomian superweapon, Lord O'Donnell, it almost certainly is. Whether it is actually capable of forming a singularity with enough mass to pose a threat, I cannot say for certain. Such is not considered feasible with even today's technology, let alone that of ten years ago. Then again, however, the Emperor did excel at accomplishing the impossible**."

Wolf looked back through the viewport at the gargantuan yellow-white ball of plasma. Something about the sight of it, the way it seemed to pulsate slightly as if a living thing were growing inside, made his tail go stiff. He'd seen enough of Andross' technological nightmares to make him wary. For a moment he wished he'd just used the ship's conventional weapons to blast the _Great Fox _apart.

"And if it turns into a black hole?" Wolf grunted.

"**I do not think I need to elaborate on how unfavorable that scenario would be**," IG replied quietly.

"How much time would we have?"

"**Evaluation: ****I cannot say, given that I do not know what the final mass of the singularity would be. Optimistically, not long. In the worst-case scenario? Immediate and total annihilation**."

"Got it," Wolf nodded, looking back to Panther, "Hurry an' get that transfer runnin'."

"Working as fast as I can, Wolf. Would you prefer to come do it yourself? After all, you did_ shoot_ the console and make this mess, and you're supposed-"

"Would ya' prefer I just drop ya' down a turbolift shaft? 'Cause if you're sayin' I should do it myself ya' must be tryin' to convince me you're about as useless as a sunroof on a fuckin' _starfighter_; an' if that's the case we might as well toss your munt ass down there an' give Andrew some company," Wolf snarled.

"No," Panther sighed laboriously, "Just linking up with our accounts right now, determining how much we've transferred so I know how much more to take out. Don't want to overcharge Connolly, do we?"

"Just get it back up," Wolf grunted, "Once we take care of it we're gonna use every gun, bomb an' missile this ship has on tha' _Great Fox_."

"Who lit a fire under your tail? I don't think I've ever seen you this focused on hurting McCloud, even when you were drugging him on Temple."

"Let's say he got under my fur a bit too much this time."

"Aww, struck a nerve did he?" the feline smirked as his fingers tapped away at holographic icons, "Don't fret, I'm sure you'll kiss and make up before you know it."

"Fuck off an' get back to work," Wolf muttered as he put a finger back to his implant, "Leon, report in."

"Yes, Wolf?" Leon's tense voice came over the comm.

"Where tha' fuck are you an' where tha' _fuck _have you been?" Wolf snarled.

"Taking care of Kursed is what I've been doing. Or Krystal, or whatever. Currently moving down through the upper decks under the command tower. Trying to find a turbolift, I can't use the stairs. McCloud and Kursed are moving up through there and I've lost the element of surprise," Leon replied.

"So when ya' say ya' took care of her, ya' don't mean tha' _dead _kinda taken care of?" Wolf rumbled.

"She's injured. I aimed for where I'd expect her left external iliac to be, but I think I landed a little high. We were fighting in zero-g, so my thrust was a bit off. Also she's an alien, so I'm not sure about how her vitals are positioned," Leon replied, "But she's bleeding. Pretty bad, from the looks. McCloud must be trying to get her to a med-bay or something."

"At least that'll slow 'em down," Wolf nodded.

"Should I go after them?"

"Nah. Stay out of sight for now, we're gettin' our money then we're takin' care of tha' _Great Fox. _We'll hunt the rest of 'em down using tha' holocams. If you're down there you can come up behind 'em while we take 'em from tha' front."

"I thought you already took care of the _Great Fox _with the singularity device."

"Didn't work out like I thought. We're just gonna use tha' ship's guns instead, that should be enough. We're runnin' tha' game here, we can take care of them all one by one. They made a mist-"

Wolf's words were cut off by a cacophony of beeping and whistling alarms from the command console, and he whipped around and stormed back up to Panther's side.

"What happened?" Wolf demanded.

"I don't know, I was about to re-start the transfer and everything started going crazy," Panther replied, stepping away from the console. Around the bridge, several other consoles were beeping and flashing with holographic readouts of data.

Wolf looked over the information on the interface, seeing the progress bar and the options for the money transfer buried under flashing icons reading **Energetic Alarm **and **CAUTION!Gravitational Anomaly Detected! **He selected one of the icons to see multiple spectroscopic readouts and graphs of gravitational and radiological energy, finding them both spiking quickly off the charts.

Wolf's head gazed out the viewport to see that the planet-sized fireball had darkened from yellowish-white to a deep orange color, and the pulsating quality had increased to the point that it looked like a flaming egg-sac about to burst. Ribbons of swirling energy flared off from the writhing mass, geysering forth from the surface only to dive down into the fire.

"What the fuck is happening?" Panther demanded urgently.

"Does it look like I fuckin' know?" Wolf snapped, then a blinding flash of orange and bright green overloaded the viewport's filters and forced it to go dark. The metal floor trembled beneath their feet and Panther grabbed onto the railing around the platform as Wolf fell against the command console, and the far-off noise of explosions and tearing metal resonated through the depths of the ship.

More alarms wailed from more consoles.

Panther flew to the command console and pressed in a few commands, and a large schematic of the _Xerxes _appeared with the starboard sublight and warp drive engines blinking red. The expansive viewport of the _Xerxes _cleared, and Wolf saw a great luminous geyser of bright green light bursting forth from polar ends of the enormous fireball, searing off intensely into the endless blackness.

Wolf recognized what they were.

"Gamma ray jets," Wolf said quietly. Narrow beams of intense radiation, they were the most luminous events in the universe and heralded the death of a star.

"The starboard side of the ship was in the direct path of one. Sheared off most of the starboard sublights and warp-drive engines, tore right through the deflector shield system and fried the propulsion. Power losses on multiple deck frames in the stern," Panther replied, his voice shaking, "The ship can't move, it's dead in space."

"Is the money still transferrin'?" Wolf demanded.

"Too much radiation interference to maintain an InterLink transfer," Panther came back, "Wolf, this isn't-"

Another flash cut Panther off and they gazed out the viewport to see the fireball burst apart in a cloud of bright orange, sweeping through the blackness of space and hitting the _Xerxes _in a tidal wave of flame. Wolf saw the fins on the ship's bow and two of the pulse laser turrets torn off the hull like leaves from a dying tree before the entire vessel lurched with a moaning of metal, the floor beneath them jerking to throw the two StarWolf pilots onto their sides. As Wolf winced in discomfort on the floor, he heard more alarms ringing. He grunted and shot up to his feet, staring out of the viewport to see a swirling cloud of fiery plasma, much larger than the original fireball, as the two green gamma ray jets continued to fire out from within. His jaw fell loose and the air in his lungs wheezed out in a gasp of dread as he realized that the cloud appeared to be getting smaller, shrinking and swirling in on itself as if time was running backwards.

On the holographic console, Wolf could see the front of the ship's bow joining the other blinking red sections on the damage control readout. Below it, flashing in alternating red and yellow were the words** WARNING! Singularity detected! WARNING!**

"Oh..._God_, Wolf," Panther breathed, the smoothness in his voice buried in horror, "You've killed us all."

* * *

"_Pe...Pe'mahkukuate Krazoa-khan, Eh kudai... kudaiyat ehya dra..._" Krystal murmured to the floor, hanging her head as she pushed the words out of her mouth, "..._baenahcah'la uev'e dra kedenae'hakukrahnn_..."

Fox's jaw tightened and his eyes softened as he looked down at the back of her head. She had gotten worse, the fur on her face soaked with sweat and the skin underneath cold to the touch. Her aqua eyes were completely out of focus, and she barely had a grip on Fox's neck to keep balance. Fox had seen drunks have an easier time walking straight than her. He would've just carried her in his arms, but they'd abandoned their goal of avoiding the holocameras in the ceiling and he needed to keep one of his hands free to hold his blaster in case StarWolf showed up. The thing worrying him most was Krystal's speech.

She'd stopped responding to his attempts to keep her talking, and lapsed into the same string of mumbled Cerinian. He guessed it was a prayer of some sorts, which possibly worried him more. He'd all but abandoned the idea of taking back the ship. He didn't know where Falco was and it felt like he hadn't heard from Peppy in ages as Krystal got progressively worse. If he could just make sure she didn't die at his feet, Fox would count the day as salvaged. She couldn't die like this.

He wouldn't let her.

_Where the _fuck _is that med-bay? _Fox thought desperately as Krystal quietly stammered Cerinian into the floor and sluggishly limped along with him. Holding up Krystal in one arm, keeping his blaster ready in the other and following the schematics on his scouter with one eye, he almost didn't notice the blue dot approaching his green one on the map, coming around the corner just ahead.

Without even thinking, Fox thrust pistol towards the corner, ready to fire at any oncoming threat. The tough voice that came around the bend made him gasp in relief and lower his gun.

"Yo, Foxie," Falco said, his cold blue eyes and yellow beak peeking around the corner before the rest of the avian emerged.

"Oh, thank Lyla," Fox breathed, stopping and leaning Krystal against a bulkhead as Falco moved down the corridor towards them.

"This is a clusterfuck, man. Ya' alright?" the avian inquired, looking over Fox's bandages, his eyes growing wider as they fell on Krystal, "Shit, she looks bad."

"Please tell me you've got a med-kit or something," Fox said.

"Not much a' one," Falco replied, opening a pouch in his StarFox jacket and producing a small case with a red cross on the lid, "I think I grabbed one a' the older ones."

Fox breathed forcefully as the case popped open in Falco's blue fingers, seeing provitate salve and synthflesh bandages and dismissing them outright. The provitate didn't seem to be doing much good, and a synthflesh bandage at this point would still allow for internal bleeding.

"What happened ta' her?" Falco asked as Fox sorted through the kit.

"Leon," was Fox's only reply.

"Bastard."

Fox's eyes lit up as they landed on a small autoinjector with different labeling from the stim-shot in his jacket pocket. He grabbed it and held it up, almost laughing as he recognized the labeling identifying it as an emergency IV fluid injector. It was an intravenous fluid cocktail designed to treat subjects suffering from various states such as dehydration, malnutrition, shock and hypotension.

"Is that gonna take care of everything with her?" Falco inquired skeptically.

"It should help oxygenate her blood, replace some of the fluids she's lost and regulate her heartbeat. Bring her out of shock and keep her on her feet long enough to get to a med-bay, where maybe there's an autosurgeon to sew her up and a plasmasynth-"

"You're headed to tha' med-bay? It's a floor up, bottom level on tha' command tower, I saw it," Falco informed him.

"The schematics said it was on _this _deck, but I can't find it," Fox came back.

"You're wrong, you're gonna have to get her up another level."

Fox nodded as he bit the cap off of the autoinjector and pressed it into one of the diamond-shaped openings in Krystal's suit that exposed her deltoids, burying the end into the sky blue fur until the device snapped and pumped the fluid into the vixen's veins. She let out a whimpering moan and shrugged into the bulkhead, then her breathing began to grow calmer and deeper.

"What's tha' plan, Foxie?" Falco inquired.

"Get her up to the med-bay and get her treated. Seal her in and then work out some way to stop StarWolf from taking this ship out of here," Fox said.

"And that thing out there?" Falco demanded, "That weird star-thing the missile created?"

"It's not a problem for StarWolf, so it's not a problem for us right now," Fox replied.

He looked back at Krystal, watching her breathing stabilize as reddish-purple blood dripped down the armorweave covering her legs, then a far-off crashing explosion echoed through the depths of the ship and the floor beneath them began to tremble. Falco stumbled a few steps backwards as Fox threw himself into the bulkhead, grabbing a hold of Krystal as she nearly fell on her face with a groggy moan.

"Peppy, what just happened?" Fox called into his headset microphone, but the only response was a garbled hissing of static. Fox's ears twitched and he thought he could just hear alarms blaring somewhere distantly down the ship's corridors.

"I don't like this at all," Falco said, the azure feathers on the back of his neck ruffling as he looked down the corridor.

Fox opened his mouth to say something, but the bulkheads around them began to shriek in protest and the floor lurched under them violently. He reached out to grab Krystal but she slipped out of his fingers and they both tumbled to a hard landing on their sides, Krystal crying out in pain as she hit the floor.

Fox got on his knees and shuffled over to her, examining her body as her aqua eyes came open.

"Ughh...Gods, what's happening?" the vixen groaned.

"I don't know," Fox replied quietly, trying to wipe something wet off his flight suit only realizing that it was Krystal's blood, "Try to get up slowly."

Krystal tried to sit up and her eyes went wide as her hand flew to her side, yowling in pain. Fox scooped her up in his arms and lifted her up (she didn't protest this time), then lowered her legs slowly to the ground and leaned her up against the wall. There was a crackling in his ears and both Fox and Falco stood straight at the garbled sound of Peppy's voice.

"I don't know what's causing interference," Fox said, looking to Falco, "Stand next to me, maybe we can get a better signal together."

Falco stepped over to them, his hand to his headset as Fox continued to call out Peppy's name. The avian looked over at Krystal wincing up against the bulkhead, and it was hard for him to keep in mind that she wasn't a friend any more.

"Hang in there, princess," Falco said with an avian smile, "If anyone can get ya' outta here fine, it's us."

Krystal's eyes came open and she wrinkled her nose with a grimace, replying, "And now you're here, too. _Glorious_."

"Psh, don't thank us all at once," he returned glibly.

"Just...just please stop talking."

"Peppy? Peppy, what's the sitrep?" Fox demanded as the signal grew clearer.

"There was_shh-_amma ray burst, the radiation's cas_shz-_erance and it gutted a side of the ship's engines, it's not moving anywh—ot to evacuate, Slippy say_shzz-_ime!" Peppy's garbled voice came in.

"What's Slippy saying? We can't leave without at least getting Krystal some treatment, what's going on?" Fox said loudly.

"The _bomb_, Fox!" Peppy yelled back, "It's changed from the protostar phas_shzzz-_-orming an accretion disc, Slippy says it's turning into a bla—nd we have to leave now!"

"Ohh, _fuck_, please don't tell me it's what I think it is," Falco breathed heavily.

"Say again, Peppy," Fox said slowly into the comlink.

"A _black hole_!" Peppy yelled, his voice coming in clear, "We're all in range of the horizon. The _Xerxes _is gone, there's no saving it. Get out of there!"

A chill ran down Fox's spine as he looked at Falco, then over to Krystal. Even in her state, she seemed to understand the danger.

"We gotta move," Falco stammered, "Come on, I'll grab her feet, you grab her shoulders an' we'll carry her back ta' the Arwings."

"Just go," Fox replied, putting Krystal's arm around his neck.

"What tha' _fuck _are you talkin' about?" Falco demanded.

"There's no more room in your Arwing than there is in mine, no matter what we're getting separate rides out of here so make use of them," Fox told him, "I'll get her to the hangar bay. Run ahead, take off and get back to _Great Fox _and have them ready to warp out when we touch down. If I'm not back in time, go without me."

"Fuck that, I'm not leavin' you here."

"_Everyone_ will die if they stay too long" Fox snarled, "If you're out of time and I haven't made it back, I need you to take command and warp them out. Do not let them die waiting for me, you understand?"

Falco stood there for a moment, stunned.

"Falco!" Fox snapped, "You need to promise me! Promise if I don't come back you won't let them waste their chances waiting for me."

"You mother fucker," Falco whispered, shaking his head.

"I need you to do this! Now!" Fox barked, "Go and make sure they get out while they still can."

Falco glared hatefully at him, grinding his beak together, but he still began to sprint down the corridor, yelling over his shoulder, "You better fuckin' make it back, ya' hear me, fuzzball? You fuckin' make it back!"

The avian tore down the corridor, disappearing around a corner. The floors and bulkheads all around began to vibrate slightly, and Fox held Krystal's face in his hands as she breathed hard and her eyes fluttered open and shut.

"This is the end. This is how it ends for both of us," Krystal mumbled, "Saving someone who doesn't want to be saved. Trying to save me from myself. You're a fool, Fox."

"Come on, stay with me," Fox said to her. He pulled her along with him away from the bulkhead, and she dragged her feet limply across the floor. The emergency IV fluid might've helped keep her alive, but she was still fighting off shock. He'd hoped to save the stim-shot for when he really needed it, but there was no time. He needed her to move.

"This won't be comfortable," Fox informed her, biting the cap off the autoinjector and pressing the end into her neck, "Sorry about that."

The injector clicked and Fox threw it to the floor as soon as it had pumped all of the fluid into Krystal's throat, and as it clattered to the ground the vixen's eyes flew wide open and she gulped a mouthful of air.

She gasped a few more times, then looked at Fox with loathing in her aqua eyes. Her mouth twisted like she was about to vomit.

"Oh, this is not good," she groaned, "Lost too much blood for my heart to move like this."

"Can you walk?" Fox interrogated.

"I fucking hate you," she hissed.

"Can you walk?" he shouted, dragging her forward. Krystal extended a foot and took a staggering step, then a few more, holding an arm over the blood-soaked bandages on her side.

"Just when I was getting numb you make everything hurt again," the vixen gagged, moving alongside him, doubling over slightly, "I'm going to kill you."

"If we make it out alive, you're welcome to get in line," Fox muttered, leading her down the hallway.

* * *

"I'm at the hangar bay, Wolf," Leon replied through the comlink as the turbolift doors shut and the car began to descend.

"Set your Wolfen's user settings ta' read-only and get in _Fang One _with IG. Panther's flyin' back ta' the _Lone Wolf _in yours," Wolf growled with his finger to the side of his implant.

Leon scoffed, "Ugh, if he so much as _sheds _in ther-"

"Fuckin' do it an' take off!" Wolf bellowed, severing the connection and leering at the display panel as the deck levels counted down.

"Ohh God, this is it," Panther shivered, gritting his teeth together, "This is what does it for us."

"Shut up," Wolf grunted, his fur standing on end in anxiety.

A black hole. Legends and pilot's myths throughout Lylat were full of them, there was even one tale that James McCloud successfully flew through one in his heyday. No one other than deep-space exploration crews ever actually ran across one. The closest natural black hole was several light years away from the outer rim of the Lylat System. And yet there was a universal fear among space pilots of stumbling across an uncharted one, they were after all very hard to detect at long range. Some of the legends about black holes maintained that they were wormholes to the other side of the galaxy or portals to an unimaginable paradise. Wolf knew those weren't true. A black hole was a hole in the universe itself, where not even the most basic laws of space and time applied. Nothing that fell into one could ever come out. It was total, inescapable nothing.

And, according to IG, the one outside would devour the _Xerxes _in a matter of minutes.

"Do you know what happens when you fall down a black hole?" the feline whimpered. Seeing the orange cloud of ejected plasma flatten into a whirlpool accretion disc with a central dark opening seemed to be too much for Panther.

"As far as I remember, it stretches an' tears ya' apart piece by piece down to your atoms, then you become part a' the black hole's mass like ya' never existed," Wolf returned flatly, as if describing an unpleasant dental procedure.

"Oh sweet Lyla, we're fucked," Panther wheezed.

"If it makes ya' feel better, no one really knows how it feels ta' cross the event horizon," Wolf shrugged, "It might be real painful when all your atoms collapse inta' neutrons. And since it, ya' know, practically stops time an' all, it could take a while for all that ta' happen."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"Oh, really?" Wolf smirked, "My bad. Maybe it'll make ya' feel better when we drive tha' _Great Fox_ past tha' point of no return."

Panther's face fell even more as he looked Wolf in the eye.

"You're not going to make us stay here and _fight _them, are you?" Panther demanded, the black fur on the back of his skull standing on end, "Are you insane?"

"Some people seem ta' think so," Wolf said, "I guess we're findin' out tonight."

The deck levels counted down as the inside of the turbolift car began to shake ever so slightly.

* * *

Their boots pounded into the metal floors as they tore down the corridors of the ship. With every step, Krystal hissed and grunted through gritted teeth, clutching her sides. Sweat poured off her face and her tongue hung out of her jaws. They could hear the superstructure of the ship groaning as gravity tugged and kneaded it like dough.

Fox turned a corner with his arm around her waist, hobbling with her as they passed a line of transparisteel viewports, and he was so focused on moving that he was confused when Krystal gasped, "_Khanshe_," and he looked to see if anyone was following them. His eyes moved to the viewports, and the sight before him stopped him in his tracks. Terrifyingly close, spinning flaming yellow was the gargantuan accretion disc, swirling inwards like a maelstrom as a green gamma ray jet fired from each pole. The disc drained into a central ravenous hole of the deepest black Fox had ever seen, somehow even darker than the blackness of space around. The sight of one of the ship's pulse laser turrets being torn off and falling into the disc brought him back to reality, and he pulled Krystal forward.

"Come on, move, let's move," Fox encouraged, pressing her into a jog.

"Gods damn it hurts," she hissed.

"I know. Keep moving," Fox said as he put a hand to his microphone, "Peppy! How much time?"

"Seven minutes, if that," Peppy replied, his voice garbled and deepened by interference, "You have to hurry, Slippy says the pull's getting stronger."

"We have to run, we have to run _now_," Fox commanded, dragging her along as he picked up the pace. Krystal stumbled and coughed, grabbing her sides and wincing as bandages began to slip off. Fox tugged her along and she shoved him off roughly, stumbling against the bulkhead.

"Just _leave _me here, I-"

"Shut up, this is not a negotiation, now _MOVE!_" Fox yelled in her face, "On your fucking feet!"

Krystal ground her teeth together and grabbed his arm, galloping down the corridor with him and stamping into the metal floors. As they got further down the hall and reached a stairwell, Fox heard the groanings of stressed metal growing louder. According to his scouter, they still had three more decks to go before they were even on the same level as the hangar bay with his Arwing.

Fox let out a growl and half-helped, half-carried Krystal down the stairs, hearing a loud cracking noise above as they reached the last step. He didn't bother to look up, he just shoved her through the open doorway and dove after her, missing a rain of concrete boulders as the stairs above collapsed. Fox shot to his feet and grabbed onto Krystal, dragging her down the corridor as alarms rang and orange warning lights blinked in the ceiling. Sparks randomly shot out of the walls as pipes and electrical conduits blew apart, and a thunderous explosion flooded the corridor behind with clouds of white as a steam pipe was torn open. Ahead, Fox saw the two-way fork in the corridor that his scouter told him was near a stairwell down another level.

"**Unauthorized personnel detected. Lethal force is authorized**," a synthetic voice announced over the alarms as a panel opened in the ceiling at the fork, and a sparking autoturret lowered down to take aim. Fox lunged to the side, throwing Krystal against the bulkhead with one arm and slapping his reflector device with another as a pair of yellow blaster bolts tore into the floor they'd been standing on an instant ago.

The blue hexagonal shield flashed in front of Fox's body as the turret fired again, the yellow bolts rebounding back at the turret and blasting the gun apart. Fox wrapped his arm around Krystal's waist and pulled her along down the left fork in the corridor, turning into the stairwell and making their way down another level. They'd barely made it out of the doorway when a pipe of electrical cables exploded down the hallway from them, falling onto the floor with a burst of sparks and metal shards.

Fox led Krystal up to the downed piping blocking their path and crouched underneath, pressing his back up against the pipe and pushing upwards with a groan and a grit of his teeth. After a moment the debris budged upwards, creating an opening in the path.

Krystal didn't protest this time, she ducked down and went under the pipes to the other side, then Fox rolled out from under them and let them fall back to the floor with a grunt.

He let her put some of her weight on his shoulder and they jogged down the corridor with one more level left to go.

* * *

Falco's Arwing had barely skidded to a stop on the _Great Fox_'s landing bay floor before he popped the canopy open and lunged out of the cockpit. Shooting across the landing bay towards the door to A Deck, the avian shoved the doors open when they wouldn't open fast enough and sprinted down the hallway towards the turbolift.

"Fox, I just landed," Falco spoke into his comlink as the turbolift doors closed behind him.

"We're almost to the landing bay, we'll be out soon," Fox came back breathlessly over the comm.

"Just get your ass back here," the avian snapped into his microphone as the lift came to a stop and the doors opened. He darted down the B Deck corridor to the bridge, where the doors opened and Peppy, Slippy and ROB all turned to see him. Falco was too distracted by the sight through the panoramic viewport to look at any of them, the fiery accretion disk nearly evaporated with an enormous spot of pure black outlined against the vermilion haze of the Sector Z nebula. And falling slowly towards the darkness was the _Xerxes_, with his best friend on board.

"Why didn't Fox leave with you?" Slippy cried as Falco slid into his seat at the radar control station.

"He made me promise somethin'" Falco came back, his eyes scanning over the console, "But he's getting' outta there. How long can we stay here?"

"**For several minutes if necessary, provided we maintain this distance from the event horizon**," ROB-64 explained.

"Fox doesn't have much time," Slippy called, "The tidal forces of the black hole are going to start breaking the ship in half."

"Then tell 'im so he knows ta' get a fuckin' move on!" Falco barked, "How close can we move to it without puttin' tha' ship at risk?"

"**A negligible distance from our current position**," ROB answered, "**The event horizon is expanding and we are at the optimal safe distance for maneuvers free from****-**"

The _Great Fox _trembled with an impact on it's shields and through the viewport Falco could see the yellow beam of a tactical pulse laser sweeping past the side of the ship as alarms began to sound.

"Shields at 92%," Peppy announced, his ears swaying as his head moved from screen to screen.

"StarWolf's ship is right on our ass!" Falco yelled, seeing the signature on the radar screen.

"The external armor's already damaged enough as it is, if their weapons get through the shields they'll tear through like paper," Peppy announced, "They're blocking our path away from the singularity, only evasive maneuvers are towards the horizon. Taking evasive action until we can come around to return fire."

"We're evading _towards _the black hole?" Slippy squeaked.

"They're trying ta' drive us in," Falco yelled, just as another rumbling impact hit the shields and the bridge shuddered violently, "We can still use tha' missiles on 'em until we get a firin' solution."

Falco scrambled to call up the missile targeting controls as the tear in the fabric of existence grew closer.

* * *

"Stay on your feet, we're almost there," Fox cried over the alarms and foreboding groans of the hull.

"I'm burning inside," Krystal gagged, her arms slipping out from around Fox's neck as she collapsed to her knees. He skidded to a stop and ran back to her, coming down and gripping her shoulders.

"You have to get up, we have to go _now_," Fox repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Fox...leave me," Krystal hissed, her eyes hollow as blood oozed down her leg, "Please, just..."

Fox was about to yell at her before the wrenching of metal rang down the hallway and the corridors howled with rushing air. He tackled her to the ground and wrapped his arm around a loose cable hanging out of the wall as the vacuum force of the air pulled them down the hallway towards the breach in the hull. Fox roared at the rushing air, his red fur whipping as he saw a blast door lower down over a section of the corridor, only to stop and jam on some metal debris that had fallen under it.

"HOLD ON TO ME!" Fox roared, and Krystal wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled out his blaster and aimed down the hall at the debris. With the howling of air in his ears, the strong force trying to tear his arm out of his socket and drag them down the hallway out into space, he could barely keep a grip on his pistol as he lined up a shot in his scouter's targeting display. He fired and missed the first shot, the second shot, then he yelled and fired a hail of red laser beams down the hall, hitting the debris twice before blasting it away on the third shot. The door slammed down, the air stopped howling and Fox lurched up from the floor, breathing raggedly.

"Still wanna stay here?" Fox demanded to Krystal on the floor. The vixen shook her head in bewilderment, and Fox helped her off the floor as more of the saturated bandages peeled off her side.

The creaking and groaning of the ship's superstructure was almost deafening with the alarms in their ears, but Krystal's pace was lagging by the second. He almost picked her up and carried her the rest of the way until they turned a corner and saw the wide open doorway of the landing bay up ahead, then he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her with him, feeling the blood soak his jacket sleeve as a section of ceiling collapsed behind them. The bright glowpanels above were flickering hesitantly, but Fox's Arwing still seemed to shine like never before as the stars through the hangar bay opening beckoned with salvation. He dragged her up to the Arwing and the canopy lifted open, then Krystal leaned weakly against a blue G-diffuser housing as Fox threw himself into the cockpit and reached over the rim. She tried to climb up to join him, but she almost fell after being seized with pain, so Fox grabbed Krystal by her elbows and pulled her into his lap as red-purple blood oozed over her legs. He didn't even bother to snap into his harness, he gripped onto the control stick awkwardly and looked over Krystal's shoulder as the canopy lowered down on them and the console flashed the message 'WELCOME, FOX MCCLOUD'.

He clicked on the G-diffuser and the engines and heard them roar to life, the Arwing shaking slightly even as the ship rumbled beneath it.

"Fox! Where are you?" Peppy yelled through the comlink.

"Taking off now, get the drives hot," Fox yelled back as he felt the warmth of her blood soaking the legs of his flight suit.

The Arwing growled and hovered over the hangar bay floor, and Krystal's face rested against the transparisteel canopy as she started to mumble in Cerinian.

"Hold on, stay with me, we're so close," Fox pleaded, and as the ceiling of the hangar bay began to warp and crack he cranked the throttle up and the Arwing blasted forward.

Streaking into the blackness of space, Fox soon saw the elongated, rust red form of the VNS _Xerxes_ shrinking away through the back corner of the Arwing's canopy. The mighty warship was tilting towards its starboard side, into a massive circle of infinite darkness framed by the glowing orange nebula in the distance. A series of explosions erupted from the _Xerxes_, and Fox saw the warship split apart and tumble into the mouth of the abyss. The pieces of the ship suddenly stopped, frozen in time. They remained, frozen against the nothingness beyond, until the last remnants of Andross' warship faded out of existence, consumed by the blackness.

As soon as the _Xerxes _disappeared the darkness suddenly grew, swelling to even larger size and the cockpit was flooded with whooping alarms as gravitational force tugged the Arwing backwards. Fox throttled into a boost with a grunt and felt the fighter roar, blasting out of the black hole's tendrils into space.

"Huh...huh... _E pak dra luinaekuk deo_..." Krystal whispered, gasping quietly for breath as her head leaned into the canopy, "..._kunahade dra kedenae'hakukrahnn... ae...aeku aeha umte' vunea'te..._"

"Shh," Fox whispered, "It's okay. It'll be..."

His voice trailed off as the _Great Fox_ came into view, and his jaw went limp at the sight of the swan-like vessel cruising through space towards the black hole as the StarWolf mother ship cut its tactical pulse laser across the shields.

"_Great Fox_, Arwing TSF-one is clear, requesting combat landing," Fox called into the microphone.

"All clear, Fox, hurry!" Peppy came back, and Fox gunned the Arwing forward through space.

A missile streaked out of a pod on the _Great Fox_'s wingtip, curving around and blasting into the StarWolf ship's side with a flash of fire against the hull. Fox's Arwing lanced along his ship's spine and came over the tail, unleashing a hail of paired green laser blasts into the enemy ship's shields. The fighter streaked over the boxy brown ship, curving back around as the rear landing bay of the _Great Fox _came into view. Rocketing back over the StarWolf ship, Fox whispered Krystal to hold on as he extended the landing gear and pointed the control stick at the blinking lights of the landing bay tunnel, throttling down. The yellow sword of the pulse laser swept by as the Arwing dove into the tunnel, underneath the bright white glowpanels, jolting as the magnetic struts pounded into the floor. The fighter bounced once before it came down to the ground, the cockpit shaking them like dice as the Arwing skidded to a stop.

"Come on come on, we're not done yet," Fox urged as the canopy hissed open and Krystal groggily stirred.

"Wake up!" he yelled, shaking her head, "Get up!"

"YOU FUCKING TOSSER!" Krystal snapped at him as he shoved her out of the cockpit, and she collapsed on the ground and began to retch as blood seeped through the fingers clutching her side.

He helped her up despite her protests and dragged her across the landing bay's silver floor, leaving a trail of red-purple blood. The ship rocked with another impact as the doors to A Deck slid open.

* * *

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, we're fucked. We're fucked. We're so fucked, this is insane," Panther stammered as Wolf glared out of the _Lone Wolf_'s viewport at the _Great Fox_, the ship slowly curving around to face them as the open mouth of the black hole loomed closer.

"Fire again," Wolf growled to Leon at the targeting controls, and the bright yellow beam of the _Lone Wolf_'s pulse laser streaked across space into the _Great Fox_'s weakening shields.

"**They are moving into attack position and we are getting ever-closer to the horizon, my Lord**," IG-N 96 warned, "**Shields holding at 75%.**"

"Keep shooting," Wolf ordered, his lavender eye glaring murderously at the ship as it faced them with its bow-tipped turbolasers.

"**Energetic alarm, **_**Great Fox **_**is preparing to fire**," IG reported.

A series of thick yellow bolts spat from the _Great Fox_'s main guns, pounding into the _Lone Wolf_'s shields and shaking Wolf's chair underneath him.

"Shields reduced to fifty percent," Leon reported.

"Keep shootin'. Push 'em into the fucking thing," Wolf snarled.

The _Lone Wolf_'s pulse laser carved into the _Great Fox _as the ship returned fire with turbolaser blasts, pounding into the shields as Panther gaped with terror at the oncoming singularity.

"Shields at twenty eight percent," Leon said.

"**My Lord, we are approaching the event horizon**," IG reported, "**We will **_**not **_**be able to warp away from that**."

Wolf's claws dug into the armrests of his chair and he gave the StarFox mother ship one last glare. If the _Lone Wolf _was in danger at this range, the _Great Fox _was dead.

"Get us tha' fuck outta here," Wolf growled, and IG punched in the coordinates.

* * *

"**Shields at 13%. Gravitational tidal force increasing. Recommend immediate withdrawal**," ROB-64 announced.

"We can't warp while we're under fire like this! Advance straight ahead and maintain a full salvo!" Fox yelled from his captain's chair. Krystal sat breathing hard at a workstation as every member of the StarFox Team scrambled around the bridge, trying to fight the black hole on one side and StarWolf on the other. She was so close to the med-bay downstairs, but as long as the ship was in danger no one could be spared to take her.

His eyes were locked on the StarWolf ship through the viewport, barking out orders as sweat dripped through his fur, praying the ship would hold together when the engines on the enemy vessel glowed yellow and it flashed out of sight.

"Warp verified!" Slippy yelled.

"ROB, get us out of here!" Fox barked.

"**Affirmative**," the android replied, entering commands into his workstation. The familiar energized hum echoed through the _Great Fox_, and he welcomed the stomach-churning jump sickness that crept up on him as the ship rumbled. The tremors got more intense, but the familiar stars remained still and distant, and Slippy looked up with dread at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" Fox demanded over the noise of alarms and the quaking of the ship.

"**Warp failure**," ROB answered, "**At this proximity to the event horizon, the gravitational pull renders the ship too massive for the warp drive to achieve a stable field. It can only slow our fall to the singularity. I am sorry, Fox.**"

"No," he whispered, the air draining out. He looked into the faces of his teammates. The stretched terror across Slippy's broad face. Falco's cold eyes burning with indignant outrage. Calm resignation behind Peppy's glasses. Krystal's face was vacant, and his heart skipped a beat at the puddle of blood spreading out under her chair. She could barely lift her head.

Peppy removed his glasses and his ears drooped slightly as he set them down on the trembling workstation.

"It's been an honor serving with all of you," Peppy told them.

Fox couldn't breathe. He could hear the _Great Fox _wailing just like the _Xerxes _had before its death. It would tear his ship open and claim them, despite all their efforts.

Then his eyes landed on the winged StarFox emblem, and his heart jump-started.

"The wing!" he shouted, "The lower starboard wing! ROB! If we use a missile to break it off at the structural weak point, will we drop enough mass to escape?"

"**With current stresses to the structure, such a plan risks ship-wide loss of integrity, outweighing odds of success by**-"

"ROB!" Fox roared, "If it works, can we get out of here?"

"**Theoretically.**"

"Target a missile for the weak point on the lower starboard wing and divert all extra power to the shields to hold us together," Fox ordered, and his team went to work.

"**Target locked**," ROB reported.

They all looked at him. Behind each of their eyes, Fox saw trust. He saw love. He saw faith. He saw his team, and they were ready to die with him.

"Fire," Fox commanded.

As the ship continued to tremble, he saw the white plume of a missile streak past the viewport and curve back around towards the ship. Fox got out of his seat and knelt down near Krystal, looking in the aqua-colored eyes once more. There was barely any life. The missile streaked past the viewport, out of view, and he slowly brushed his hand against her fingertips. She clasped his hand in hers, their fingers wrapping together, and he could see the faintest ghost of a smile cross her lips.

"**Auxiliary power diverted to deflector shields. Brace for impact**," ROB-64 said.

Fox gave one more look around at his team, his family, then gazed back at Krystal and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back and Fox softly closed his eyes.

The missile found its target and there was a cracking explosion, then the _Great Fox _screamed.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey...wouldn't it totally suck if I just ended it there? The thing is, when I said that there was one chapter left, I was being only half-truthful. You'll get an extended epilogue in a few days that shows you what happens when all the dust settles. Here's a hint: it takes place at a funeral. I'd love to hear your guys' reaction to this one. And I'm excited to show you the ending early next week. See you soon.-TU**


	21. Requiem For a Ruffian

**-Requiem For a Ruffian-**

The orange star Oesté hung low in the sky as winds whipped veils of dust across the Katinan outback. Wolf's rented gray Gemini Desperado hovercar skimmed to a stop in the nearest free space in the dirt parking lot, the landing struts extending as the repulsorlifts powered down and the vehicle settled to the ground. He let out a sigh as he glanced around at the other vehicles settled in the parking lot, trying to determine if he recognized any of them.

He didn't. He'd been away for a long time.

Wolf leaned back into his seat and put a clawed finger to the side of his implant, opening a channel to the _Lone Wolf_.

"Is it clear?" he growled softly.

"Looks like it," Leon came back over the comlink, "Nothing too unusual. There's a few Tombstone Ranger gunships in the nearest town, but they're not moving. Doesn't look like there's anything on the ground or in orbit on this side of the planet posing a threat. No approaching cops, no Army, no CSB."

"No StarFox?"

"Wolf, no one's seen trace of them for a week. They're dead," Leon replied.

Wolf sniffed and nodded, flexing his clawed hands on the steering yoke of the speeder thoughtfully. He looked out at the desolate Katinan landscape, dust and desert stretching on to jagged mountains in the distance, and didn't quite know how to feel. He thought he'd be free to be who he wanted, now that he wasn't constrained by Fox McCloud anymore. But the weight in his chest still hadn't gone away.

"Where are we going to head after this? We're still planning on laying low for a while, right?" Leon's voice inquired in his ear.

"I'm thinkin' Papetoon, or maybe hidin' out in tha' junk field near Temple for a while. Make supply runs ta' Sargasso and just stay outta sight for a few months," Wolf replied, "I think we can live on ten billion for a while."

They'd decided to go into hiding soon after warping away from Sector Z. It was an easy conclusion to make. This assignment had been pretty high-profile, and StarWolf had pissed off more than a few people, the Commonwealth Security Bureau in particular. Connolly certainly wouldn't be happy to learn how everything turned out, and if he discovered that StarWolf kept what relatively little money they'd been able to retrieve from the _Xerxes_, he would demand a return on his investment with interest compounded in blood. They'd waited a week. Maybe, just maybe after a few months of hiding, Wolf could risk taking Fara Phoenix up on her offer and give her a call. But until then, this would be Wolf's last appearance in public before disappearing from notice.

Wolf found it hard to open the hovercar door and get out. He wasn't sure what he'd say.

"Umm... Listen," Leon said over the comlink, "Before we have to leave, I just thought you might want to...well... there's a Morgan DeVayne concert in Clanton tomorrow night. We've been through some stuff and I thought you'd like something to...take your mind off it? Distract you? Help you collect your thoughts, I don't know, maybe we could talk... I bought two tickets. Thought we could go before leaving Katina. If you wanted to, you know."

Wolf didn't notice the faint smile crossing his muzzle until he saw it himself in the rearview mirror. Leon never failed to surprise him.

"I mean, I understand if you don't want to-"

"That'd be great, Leon," Wolf nodded to himself in the mirror.

"Oh. Well...great then. Can't wait," his only friend came back, his tense, nasal voice rising to an uncharacteristically bright pitch, "I'll keep you updated if the situation changes, otherwise I'll just give you your space. Good luck in there, Wolf."

"Thanks," Wolf sighed as Leon clicked off.

He gazed into the rearview mirror again. A grizzled lupine with coarse fur and pointed ears stared back at him with a hard lavender eye and a glowing blue cybernetic implant. He wasn't sure how he felt about the wolf in the mirror, what he had done and how he had lived for the past fifteen years or so. Silencing Fox McCloud had done little to silence the questions in his head.

He supposed that there was little point in sitting in the speeder anymore. He clicked open the door and stepped out into the warm Katinan evening, a soft wind swirling the tails of his duster coat behind him. Wolf figured he'd get a better reception if he wore something a bit more low-key than his usual attire, with all the metal spikes and body armor. He'd made some small effort not to look like a murderer, but no amount of cleaning up could help that perception in their eyes. They'd seen what Wolf was capable of.

His boots crushed dry dirt as he walked across the parking lot towards the stucco building with high stained glass windows and a six-winged Lylatian star mounted on the sloped roof.

A thick sign like a headstone out front identified the building as the Saint Otis Lylatian Chapel of Hardin, with a message on a digital screen below inviting passers by to **Join us in paying tribute to the memory of our packmate, our late brother Henry "Hank" O'Donnell, 1076-1143 A.C.E.**

Wolf looked up at the sky as Oesté slowly drooped lower towards the mountains in the horizon. At the other end of the sky he could just make out the faint outline of Buono, the largest of Katina's three moons appearing full and white among the clouds. His father would've wanted to be buried under the full moon; it was likely the memorial service had just barely started. He stepped up to the tall double doors carved with the six-winged figure of the God Lyla, Her hands held up pensively as the planets and stars of the Lylat System revolved around her, and he cocked an ear towards the crack.

Wolf could hear someone playing a soft acoustic guitar as a lilting old voice solemnly praised "our brother Hank" as a "keen, generous farmer, a true wolf a' the soil and a devoted father that gave graciously ta' his church and served as an example in our community." He tried not to grimace as his tail swiped through the air behind him. He hadn't seen his father in more than fifteen years, but none of that sounded like the Hank O'Donnell he remembered.

Wolf waited a bit for the right moment to enter, and when it didn't come he cursed quietly to himself and pulled both of the doors open with a loud squeak of metal hinges.

The near two dozen people in the wooden pews were mostly lupines, and all of their heads twisted around to behold the duster-clad, one-eyed-wolf in the doorway. As per Lylatian funeral tradition every attendee wore robes of all black or all white, to symbolize the fact that death, whether one viewed it in a positive or negative light, was as much part of life as the shades of black and white were to the colors of the rainbow. The chapel was simple with relatively unadorned wood carvings and columns surrounding the pews, except for an ornately carved pulpit where stood a ram in light blue robes with dark black trimmings. The priest's face fell limp and the fingers of the feline guitar player in the corner stopped plucking as the chapel fell silent save for gasps and whispers from the pews. Wolf could feel the eyes and faces of everyone on him as he stood between the doors, his duster blowing in the wind and his implant glowing light blue. He didn't see very much welcome amongst the shocked, scared and indignant faces, and he swallowed as he stepped forward through the aisle between the pews, his boot steps echoing loudly on the wooden floor.

"_...that who I think it is?" _Wolf heard someone say, along with murmurings of _"What's_ he _doing here?" _scattered amongst the attendees. He continued as if he didn't notice, scanning over the pews until he spotted a slightly plump female wolf sitting at the edge of the fifth row. She had brown fur framing the edges of her face, however her face itself along with the inside of her ears and trailing down her chest was covered in a light cream color. Her ears were pointed just like his, the left one pierced with a line of what had to be more than ten earrings, and she looked at him with a tender, faint smile and lavender eyes with specks of gray.

"Hey there, Jess," Wolf said quietly.

"Howdy, brother," Jess nodded, her hands folded in the lap of her white robes, "Long time."

"Yeah," he nodded, "Thanks for sendin' word."

"Don't thank me just yet."

"Did ya' tell 'em I might be comin?"

"Didn't know if ya' would. Thought it proper ta' tell Larayne all the same. She didn't tell anyone else here."

As Wolf nodded, he looked down the pew and recognized a pair of leporids as John and Martha Powalski, Leon's adopted parents that ran a bison ranch neighboring the O'Donnell farm. The ginger-furred rabbits looked away from him. The sight of him probably reminded the Powalskis of what Leon did to them the night he ran away with Wolf, so he couldn't really blame them there.

"Go on an' say what ya' need ta' say," Jess said, nodding her head towards the front, "Probably not a great idea ta' stay around for long."

There was an urgent look in her lavender eyes, and Wolf looked down the aisle to see a female lupine with dark gray fur in black robes stand up at a pew in the front row with her arms crossed as whispers evaporated through the air. He looked back at Jess and nodded, and it still looked like she wanted to say something but Wolf moved forward after a few moments of waiting for her to spit it out, unable to stand the sounds of his family whispering about him. He stepped down the aisle to the gray female in black robes waiting for him. Her shoulders were broad and he could see echoes of his mother in the black markings tracing the contours of her weathered face, but the brownish-gold eyes were totally his father's. The eyes were cold and her square jaw was clenched tight as Wolf approached his sister.

"Larayne," he said gruffly with a forced, flat smile.

"What are you doin' here, Wolf?" she interrogated.

Larayne O'Donnell wasn't the oldest of the clan, but Wolf always remembered her as one of the toughest and most level-headed of his sisters. According to an email Jess had sent him a few years ago, Larayne had been running the O'Donnell farm and household for a while. It didn't surprise him at all.

"Payin' my respects," Wolf shrugged.

"Really? Where was that when it was _Mom's _funeral, huh?"

"Didn't feel welcome."

"You ain't welcome now," Larayne retorted, "We're ashamed a' you. An' those that ain't ashamed are scared."

Movement in the nearby pew caught Wolf's attention and his eye fell on a thin lupine a little older than himself, with sandy-colored fur wearing a white funerary robe. The StarWolf mercenary grinned a mouth full of sharp canine teeth and his rough tail twitched behind him in amusement.

"Howdy, Fenris," Wolf grinned, "Ya' ever get those scars fixed?"

Wolf looked back with particular fondness on Fenris, his older brother by two years. He was the first person that Wolf ever beat in a fight, the first time he felt the animal inside take control. Fenris choked and his lower jaw trembled, and he did not look at Wolf.

"_That_ is exactly what I'm talkin' about, ya' lobo thug," Larayne hissed, shoving Wolf's shoulder angrily. His duster fell open as Wolf took a step back, revealing the blaster pistol in its holster slung low on his hip.

"Good lord, man. This is a house of God," the priest protested with revulsion.

"Don't worry," Wolf growled, "I'll be gone before She gets back."

He locked eyes with Larayne to find her nostrils flared as she puffed breaths of smoldering outrage.

"Ya' wanna know what he said about you in the end?" his sister fumed, "Not a goddamn thing. You didn't _exist_ as far as he was-"

"Then he's just like I remember; fine by me," Wolf cut off, "He's my Daddy, too, an' I'm here already so I might as well say somethin'. Sorry if that disturbs y'all."

He could hear Larayne's breaths hissing indignantly out of her shiny black nose, her arms still crossed as she looked over to the open casket on the altar. She looked back at him, sighed, and as she shook her head her golden-brown eyes had a knowing look behind soft concession.

"Go on an' make your peace," Larayne breathed with a wave of her hand, "Maybe if ya' sit in tha' back row you can stay for the rest. Just don't talk to anyone."

Wolf grunted and gave her a curt nod, and as Larayne sat down in her pew he stepped forward up to the altar as the priest at the pulpit eyed him with suspicion.

The plainness of the seating area belied the ornate craftsmanship at work near the altar, with a tall illuminated stained glass mosaic of Lyla meditating among the stars as the worlds of Lylat turned around her. In front of the mural was a carved wooden statue of Peter, the leporid angel of virtue and protection for the faithful standing with wings and arms spread and a sword held at his side.

On the altar directly at Peter's feet a wooden casket lay on a temporary platform, opened to reveal a thick-chested male lupine dressed in the traditional Lylatian black burial robes with pure white trim around the collar and at the edges of the long, wide sleeves.

Hank O'Donnell looked smaller than Wolf remembered him. His image of his father was always a loud, tough, dismissive figure that towered over him, but his father must've shrunk or Wolf must've grown in the fifteen years since. His fur was a lot thinner and the shades of black amongst the dark gray had faded; it was also better brushed and maintained than he remembered, but Wolf wagered that was the undertaker's work rather than Hank's. The face looked much softer, with traces of a double chin under his jaws and wrinkled jowls hanging down from his muzzle like a bulldog's. But he still recognized his father.

The weight in his chest made it feel hard to breathe, and as Wolf rested a hand on the casket he tried to think of words. What did he want to say? Now that he was finally here he realized that he hadn't given much thought to what he would actually say to pay his respects. It wasn't like he'd been in contact with his father for this past half of his lifetime. And it wasn't like it would make a difference either way, Wolf had a feeling that even if Hank could hear what he said it wouldn't change a thing between them.

But he still had to say something.

Wolf felt like he'd gone through years of experience in the weeks of their pursuit of the _Xerxes. _Without a sense of purpose or direction, without Fox McCloud to compare himself to, the future for Wolf was a question mark, and he wasn't sure that he knew or liked what he saw in the mirror anymore. Maybe that was why he had to come.

Wolf swallowed and leaned down to his father's body, and Hank O'Donnell's face remained blank and at peace.

"I'm...I blamed ya' for a lot a' things that weren't your fault. Kinda started a bad habit of blamin' everyone but myself. I didn't care what you thought, cause I thought I deserved better. If I'd cared more...it might've been different," Wolf breathed, closing his eye, "I'm sorry I didn't turn out ta' be someone you'd be proud of. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."

Wolf opened his eye and looked over his father's face, then breathed and looked down at the ground as he turned and took a step forward off the altar. His boot touched the wooden floor and his pointed ears twitched as he heard the rumblings of a powerful engine outside and the grinding of treads on dirt. His tail went stiff and his snout wrinkled as he scanned the attendees in the pews in front of him. There was the same fear, discomfort and scorn in most of their faces, but there was something else in his two sisters. Larayne was leaning back with a soft, firm smile on her snout, while Jess was scowling down at the floor. Wolf's brow furrowed as the engine sound grew closer, then his spine went stiff as he looked at the heads-up display in the blue-tinted vision of his implant. The orange dot indicating his open channel to the _Lone Wolf _was gone even though it had been there when he stepped out of the hovercar. How long had it been gone without him knowing? The only reason for the comm icon's disappearance was if the _Lone Wolf _broke contact or went out of range...or if someone was very successfully jamming his comlink frequency.

Wolf's teeth gritted together as the engine sound grew louder and several heads in the pews turned to look curiously at the chapel doors. Jess and Larayne's heads didn't turn. He stepped up the aisle as the engine noise idled and a hydraulic whining told him that whatever was outside, it was right up against the chapel doors. He reached his hand into the depths of his duster and rested clawed fingers on his holster. More than a few attendees sitting in the pews nearby gasped and scooted down the bench as far away as they could from Wolf. The powerful engine was still idling behind the doors and he could see a shadow of _something_ through the stained glass window above, but there was nothing to indicate that it was planning to enter the chapel.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing a doorway in the wall behind the priest's pulpit that could serve as an escape route, then Wolf looked back at the doors with a scowl. He didn't make a habit of running, especially when he didn't know what he was running from. His hard lavender eye glared at the carved wood as he stepped up to the tarnished metal handles, the engine sound on the other side practically daring him to open the doors and see what was waiting. He slowly drew his bayonet-tipped blaster pistol from the holster and wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the door handle, sparing one look back at his father's casket before facing forward.

"Fuck it," Wolf murmured to himself and he threw the doors open, a rush of wind from the Katinan outback billowing his duster and filling his nose with the smell of warmth and dust.

The bright lights shining out from the huge white vehicle parked at the doors meant that Wolf barely made out it's shape before the long barrel of an artillery turbolaser cannon lowered to aim at his chest with a hydraulic whine. His eye and implant began to adjust and Wolf's jaw went tight as he ran over the white chassis covering the heavy treads, the battering-ram-shaped frontal section and blue G-diffuser housings of a modified M6A2 Landmaster tank. The lights mounted on the front of the Landmaster went dark and Wolf saw painted on the G-diffusers the silhouette of a fox with wings and next to it in elegant script the words STAR FOX.

Standing atop the housing for one of the tank's massive treads, blaster carbine in his arms and aimed at Wolf's face, was Commander Fox McCloud.

Wolf huffed in astonishment, and was almost pleased to see him.

"If I'd left anyone but you at the edge a' the black hole, I'd think I was seein' a ghost right now," Wolf growled, staring at Fox and ignoring the artillery turret aimed at him.

"A few more seconds at the edge and you would be seeing a ghost," Fox replied, flexing his hands over the carbine's stock.

"Close as ya' were to the horizon? Damaged as your ship was? Thought there wasn't a chance in hell you'd get out."

"Impressed? You should be."

"You've got some balls trackin' down my kin an' showing up here on tha' day of my Daddy's own _fuckin_' funeral."

"The Army tracked your family down years ago, Wolf. When they dropped your file, all I did was pick it up," Fox returned calmly, carbine held up to his shoulder and the green scouter over his right eye, "After Sector Z I wanted to have a word, so I checked in on them and learned about today. They told me you wouldn't come. But from what we talked about back there? Those five minutes of ours? I had a hunch you'd show up. So I offered them a finder's fee for cooperating."

Wolf hissed and shook his head, looking over his shoulder into the chapel. Most of the attendees had taken cover up against the walls of the chapel or behind the pews, but Wolf could still see Larayne and Jess, one calmly satisfied, the other hanging her head.

"Figures," Wolf spat.

"I had a feeling you'd come alone, too. The only reason you'd share details about yourself like that with _me _is because you couldn't with your teammates. Since you thought we were all dead, it was just a matter of staying out of sight and jamming your comlink at the right time to move in," Fox explained, "For the record, if Leon _was_ with you, I'd shoot him on sight."

"If he was here there's no way you'd take us alive, we'd go down together."

"I could live with that."

"Then what's stoppin' you now?" Wolf snarled, squeezing the handle of his blaster and bringing it up.

"Don't," Fox said, lining up a shot with his carbine as the Landmaster turret twitched with a hydraulic whurr and a targeting laser projected onto Wolf's chest. Wolf's lavender eye glared hatefully at Fox, but he slowly put his blaster back into the holster.

"I'm not here to fight, not if it's just you," the StarFox leader told him, shifting his feet on the Landmaster's tread housing.

"Then what?" Wolf growled, his claws tensed, "More talk? Offer some more a' your pitiful help?"

"I'd offer to help you Wolf, I really would, but you don't think you need it. You made your choices," Fox replied firmly, "The time for talk is over."

"Then what tha' _fuck _are you here for?"

"Business. That's all."

"What?" Wolf demanded, his teeth bared harshly, then a far-off noise in his ears gave him pause. His brow furrowed as the distant wailing sound became clearer, then his eye widened and his jaw went slack at the sight of four Tombstone Ranger gunships approaching over the horizon with a half dozen police skimmers in tow, lights flashing red and blue. It felt like the air had been punched out of him, he could barely move his head as he turned his gaze from the distant police vehicles to the face of Fox McCloud.

"You sack of shit," Wolf rumbled, breathless and full of disbelief. The wailing of sirens grew closer.

"After everything that's happened between us...I _wanted _something good to come of it. I _wanted_ to see you put that passion, and focus, and talent towards making things better instead of being one more in a _galaxy_ full of people making things worse. I believed it when you said you could be better than me if given the chance. You had all kinds of chances, not just over the years but just over this _assignment_...and in the end you used them to cause pain, to kill me, and everyone I love," Fox told him with a slow shake of his head, "You said it yourself, Wolf. Maybe you're just a bad person."

The lupine looked down at the ground, his head moving lazily from the approaching police gunships to Fox McCloud and back as if in a daze. His rival's emerald eyes were firm and unforgiving as the blue and white form of an Arwing screamed through the sunset sky.

Wolf's head sank and he stepped limply backwards into the chapel as the Ranger gunships and police skimmers broke formation and surrounded the church on all sides, shining blinding spotlights over the scene. He could hear the sirens wailing and the shouts of unloading law enforcement officers, and he turned his back to the doors and walked down the aisle to kneel at his father's casket. He barely saw the attendees of Hank O'Donnell's memorial service huddled along the walls of the chapel or sneaking through the doorway behind the pulpit. Nor did he really acknowledge it when the orange comm icon reappeared in his implant's heads-up display and Leon's hysterical voice filled his ears, pleading him to run, get in the hovercar and lead them on a chase so that he could fly in for support and Panther could take the pursuers out from orbit with the _Lone Wolf_'s weapons.

Wolf sat there, kneeling and staring at his father's body, feeling the weight in his chest and thinking about how _tired _he was from carrying it so long.

When he thought about it, there were a lot of things that had made him tired.

* * *

The Landmaster rumbled under Fox McCloud's feet as it backed away from the chapel doors, the house of worship and the dusty property around bathed in the bright white spotlights of the hovering Ranger gunships and police skimmers. The tank came to a stop and Fox hopped down to the ground, slinging the blaster carbine over his shoulder. He leaned against the Landmaster's treads and watched one of the sand-colored gunships glide through the air over the chapel, the main hold doors sliding open for an armed hostile response team in dark blue and black body armor to rappel down to the dusty ground. A second hostile response team joined them and they advanced into the chapel with automatic blaster rifles held at the ready.

A hatch on the chassis under the Landmaster's turret opened up with a faint whine of metal hinges, and a moment later an athletic-bodied vixen with cerulean fur slid down to the ground and took a spot next to Fox, leaning up against the treads. She wore a loose-fitting gray v-neck tee shirt under a lighter shaded vest with a high collar, a pair of jean short-shorts and sandals that laced up on her shins. They'd been forced to cut through her armorweave bodysuit in the _Great Fox_'s med-bay, and even if they hadn't it was soaked in so much of Krystal's blood that she didn't like to look at it anymore.

It had been a close call. Far too close.

Even though they rushed her down to the med-bay on D-Deck as soon as they got to warp, the amount of blood she'd lost and the stim-shot Fox had given her to keep her on her feet took it's toll and she fell into a seizure before they even got her out of the turbolift. They had her on the autosurgeon table, an oxygen mask in her face and an IV tube in her arm when she became comatose as the machine repaired her leaking arteries and sewed her up. They discovered that, by some natural defense mechanism in Cerinian anatomy, Krystal's arteries automatically constricted and her heartbeat slowed in response to the blood loss, which bought her enough time to make it back to the _Great Fox_. The difficulty was in configuring the med-bay's plasmasynth to create a blood substitute her body would accept, to help replace all that she'd lost. She stayed comatose, her vital signs dropping even lower as Slippy and ROB worked out the calibration to produce a substitute for Cerinian blood. They figured it out, but as they were inserting the tube into her arm that would inject the substitute into her veins, Krystal's heart stopped. They kept pumping the substitute into her veins and the auto-surgeon kept defribrillating her circulatory system, but the vixen was clinically dead on the table for sixty seven seconds before they got a pulse.

It had been the longest minute of Fox's life. Comparatively, the near forty eight hours it took her to regain consciousness were a breeze.

He looked her over as she leaned against the Landmaster's treads. She'd gotten some sleep, finally.

"Thanks for coming along," Fox said.

"Thanks for letting me try out the Landmaster," Krystal nodded, "I never felt like I logged enough hours on it...and I do pride myself on being a pilot."

"You did awesome," Fox offered, "I didn't fall off, that's what counts."

The vixen chuckled, and looked at the now full moon of Buono as its cracked, misshapen cousins Brutto and Cattivo peeked out from the mountainous horizon. Fox breathed and stared down at the ground, then faced her again.

"I've got a question," Fox said quietly, "I wanted to wait until you've had some time to yourself to process it on your own. When you were on that table...and you were gone... did you feel anything?"

Krystal swallowed, and kept staring at the moon.

"Yes," she whispered, "I could see myself. Lying there. I knew I was dead. I could see all of you around me. But it felt like I was surrounded by...millions. They told me it wasn't my time. Then I woke up."

Fox exhaled through his mouth and licked his lips.

"What did it feel like?"

"Peaceful," the vixen replied, her facial features loose, "Like I didn't have to keep running anymore. Have you ever felt like something was there, as if you were all alone and then something that you couldn't explain was just there for you?"

"Yeah," Fox nodded softly, looking distantly across the outback, "I've had that happen."

From the doors emerged the hostile response teams, escorting Wolf at gunpoint with binder-cuffs on his wrists. Even from this distance, Wolf seemed to lock on to Fox's location for one last look. The StarWolf leader had a weary frown and the lazy, careless gait of a sleepwalker, and his one lavender eye leered at Fox like a child would discovering that their friend had cheated at the special game they'd played together for years.

"Will the bounty on his head pay for the _Great Fox_'s repairs?" Krystal inquired, swallowing and trying to banish the look of befuddled awe on her soft face.

"Yeah," Fox said, scratching behind his left ear, "Even with the percentage that goes to the O'Donnell farm, we'll have a bit left over after drydock."

"How much left over?"

"Not enough."

"Is there ever?" Krystal shrugged as a wolverine in a gray flannel suit approached the Landmaster.

"Commander McCloud?" the mustelid inquired in a gravelly voice.

"That's me," Fox replied, "And you are?"

The wolverine gave him a snide look, then produced the thick silver disc of a personal holo-unit from the breast pocket of his suit and aimed it at the dirt.

The holo-unit came to life and illuminated the ground, then the ghostly hologram of a thin she-wolf in a black pantsuit with a green blouse flickered in front of them.

"So you found him," Gillian Morrow said, "Good for you."

Fox's jaw tightened at the sight of the white wolf. They had searched the _Great Fox _and found the tracking beacons and computer monitoring devices the CSB had somehow planted on their ship. Their quest to find and remove them all led them to find a different brand of tracking beacon in the _Pleiades_, which Slippy suspected was planted by StarWolf to track them as well. They'd nearly finished the job started by the Fortunan atmosphere, the black hole and the missile tearing the _Great Fox _apart to be certain none were missed.

"Satisfied with your pound of flesh?" Fox inquired.

"Oh trust me, Commander McCloud," Morrow promised, narrowing her eyes at him, "_Someone _is going to prison for what happened at Sector Z. I would've gladly taken you if not him."

"So he is going to prison? Actual, legitimate prison? Not disappearing into some secret death camp of yours?"

"Please. Wolf O'Donnell has far too large a reputation to simply disappear him. We like to parade the villains we catch in front of the public. It helps them remember why they need us."

"Someday, it's going to be you on parade with all your skeletons laid bare," Fox said quietly, "That's a day I'm looking forward to."

"Melodrama doesn't suit you, Commander McCloud, it only exposes how _forced_ your efforts to be relevant are," Morrow scoffed, "Do you think this situation has somehow...hurt me? I arranged the liquidation of the Venomian Remnant, forced the cooperation of the ALF, and ensured the destruction of the only warship posing a threat to the stability of the Commonwealth. I may have tipped the balance of the Fortunan civil war in favor of my government's interests, and I also arranged the delivery of a notorious war criminal into my custody. As far as the Prime Minister is concerned, this operation was a resounding success. Even considering the damage done to the ships in my fleet, the result is I now have proof the Enforcement Fleet is _necessary_. The only thing you've cost me by failing to secure that ship are control of the fastest warp drives in Lylat. Since nobody else has them, really all you've done is ensure I have to _work _to keep my job. And if past performance is any indication, I am more than capable of doing just that."

Fox was silent as the she-wolf regarded him with a sharp smirk, then Morrow turned to Krystal and looked her up and down clinically.

"Kursed, right? You have proven remarkably useful. A female of your talents would go far at the Bureau. A great asset. You have my invitation to come to the Verdenhal in Corneria City, for operative training evaluation," Morrow mused, her golden eyes glancing coldly at Fox, "I promise it's more meaningful work than you'll find in the private sector."

Krystal sniffed and shifted her jaw as she returned Morrow's glance.

"Thank you," the vixen nodded, "But I am no one's trained lackey."

Morrow's expression didn't change.

"Lackey or not, there's the winning team and then there's everyone else," the she-wolf dismissed, and with a tilt of her head towards Fox she said, "There's those living in the past, and there's those that understand the future. Guess which I am? I'm one of the people _building _the future. And there isn't a place in it for so-called heroes."

Fox's jaw clenched tightly and he stood up straighter as the ghostly image of the CSB Director flickered and vanished. The wolverine in the gray flannel suit winked at them as he slipped the holo-unit back into his jacket, then he turned on his heel and walked back towards the collection of police skimmers surrounding the chapel. He sighed and felt a bad taste in his mouth as he watched the wolverine disappear, remembering what Zaius had said on Fortuna, about the hollow people that were the face of the new Lylat.

Fox looked over at Krystal and Krystal looked at him.

"So..." Fox trailed off, "Have you considered my offer?"

Krystal nodded slowly, staring back off at the moons.

"What do you think of it? Joining back up with us for a bit? However long you'd like?" Fox inquired.

"I've thought about it," Krystal said with a faint smile, "There's a few things...just being around you all again. I didn't realize how much I'd missed them. And you saved me. Even though I didn't want to be saved and I didn't think it possible. The world looks different, at least it has since I woke up. I think I'm ready to try living as a part of it again. So I think I will."

A warm feeling rose up in Fox's chest, and he smiled softly back at her.

"Can I ask another question?" he inquired, "I'm not hoping for one answer, I just want to know what the truth is."

"What?"

"What's the state of things between you and me? Between just the two of us?"

Krystal swallowed and looked at him with aqua-colored eyes, and even though they were stronger than the Krystal he remembered, he still recognized the girl behind them. She was no longer a stranger, to him or to herself.

"Fox..." she said, "I was a different person when we were together. I trusted you, I felt I gave myself to you completely. I can't do that right now, I don't know if I ever can trust you like that again. I want to be a part of this team. I want to be around people that know me, trust me, and can help me learn to appreciate this world I'm living in. You're my commander, you are my teammate and... you are someone that I believe in. But that's all you can be right now."

Fox nodded softly, and he was surprised at how relieved he was to hear her say that.

"I wouldn't ask to be anything more," he said, extending his hand, "Welcome to the team, Kursed."

The vixen smiled and brushed a lock of azure hair out of her eyes, playing with the wedge-shaped tourquoise gem in the choker around her neck.

"No, I..." she said softly, "I think I'm ready to be Krystal again."

Fox's smile deepened.

"Krystal," he said warmly, "Welcome back."

As the vixen smiled and shook his hand, the air above them roared with the screaming of engines and they looked up to see the _Pleiades_ and Falco's Arwing hover overhead, touching down in the Katinan dirt a few dozen meters from the Landmaster. They walked around the tank as the ships went quiet, the Arwing's canopy coming up as the shuttle's boarding ramp came down. Peppy and Slippy made their way out of the shuttle and Falco hopped out of the fighter, and they met Fox and Krystal on the soil. As his teammates enthusiastically talked about catching Wolf O'Donnell and essentially crippling StarWolf, Fox worked in the news about the newest addition to Team StarFox to everyone's elation.

"Great to have you back, beautiful," Peppy said, his thick whiskers curling as he smiled.

"We missed you, Krystal," Slippy grinned, his eyes bright, "The team's all back together!"

"Yo, I got some news for ya' guys," Falco remarked loudly, "As much of a shitshow as this contract was, look at what we got now: we're breathin', we're all in one piece, we're not broke and our ship's still flyin'. In this business, that means it's a good day. But on toppa that, we've got our old lineup all back, and oh yeah: Wolfie's going ta' fuckin' _prison_. HA! I say we celebrate. The sooner the better."

"Second that!" Slippy shouted.

"Likewise," Peppy replied.

"I mean, Bill's what? Only halfway around tha' planet from here?" Falco proposed, "Didn't he offer ta' show us a good time after this was over? I say we call him on it an' party like it's our second chance."

"I like the sound of that," Fox smirked, looking over at Krystal, "What do you think?"

The blue vixen smiled back, "Absolutely."

"Well, ROB's pulling the _Great Fox _out of the canyon he was idling in, headed over to pick up the Landmaster," Peppy shrugged, turning to Fox with warm brown eyes behind his glasses, "What do you say we have him give us all a ride to Bill's? Tombstone's a few hours behind this time zone, it'll be a long night."

"Hey, that's my favorite kinda' night," Falco quipped.

"Let's do it," Fox smiled.

"ROB's coming in for an extraction approach right now," Peppy said, "You're the leader. Give the order."

He looked around at his team, all back together after what seemed a lifetime apart. Fox couldn't stop smiling if he wanted to.

"StarFox Team!" Fox commanded, "Mobilize!"

Falco laughed aloud as Slippy gave a triumphant hoot, and they rushed back to their vehicles as the rumbling of nearby plasma engines and repulsorlifts reached their ears. The engines of the _Pleiades _and Falco's Arwing screamed to life as Krystal climbed into the Landmaster's hatch and Fox stood on the tread housing, holding on to the turret.

The Arwing and the shuttle rose into the air with glowing white engines as the grayish-white form of the _Great Fox _cruised through the skies above, a scorched and twisted metal gash in the place of it's lower starboard wing. The StarFox mother ship dove down gracefully and glided barely sixty meters over the ground, coming up behind the Landmaster as the tank's engines growled with anticipation.

It rumbled under Fox's feet and the Landmaster lifted off the ground with a roaring of jump jets, blasting dozens of meters into the air where the _Great Fox _caught it with the launch tunnel on the bottom of its hull. Mechanisms on the launch tunnel floor locked the Landmaster into place and Fox felt a warm, powerful rush in his chest as Falco's Arwing streaked past.

StarFox had failed the mission, that was true, but their success was beyond any one assignment. Fox had rediscovered his connection to his team, and they had done the same with him. They had been pushed to the brink of destruction, faced with all of the horrors and the nightmares and hard realities of their world, and they had emerged from the fire: reborn, stronger than ever. They were more than a team. They were a family again, and at that moment it didn't matter if they'd won or if Lylat didn't want them or if there wasn't a place in the future for heroes like them. None of it mattered, because they would be together.

Fox breathed clearly, and as the air rushed through his fur he felt ten years younger. He looked out into the darkening sky with a smile.

It was going to be a long night.

Fox was ready for it.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Fade to black. Cue Linkin Park's "New Divide". After more than two years this story is over, and I'm really happy with what I produced. There were a lot of themes in here, but ultimately I think this story was about survival. Surviving, growing and moving on, even in the face of odds that seem impossible. It's the StarFox motto: Never give up. Fox took the first step to recovery in A Great Day to Die, but he remained a somewhat broken person for most of this story, and the StarFox Team really struggled throughout to regain their unity. Kursed needed to die (in a sense), StarFox needed to lose, and they had to be pushed to the brink of destruction in order to come back as the team they were before. Wolf couldn't reconcile his decisions with his own identity issues, and even though they came the closest to winning, StarWolf essentially collapses in the end.

I have thus finally done what I tried to do from the very first story: Create a method to go through the character arcs and interesting themes of isolation and disunity that Star Fox: Command explored, while completely avoiding the rather dumb plot. I do have ideas for one much more compact story, and then a proper sequel to A Cold Night in Hell to continue my stories of Fox and Wolf. But I think I'm going to take a break for now. I really feel like I've accomplished something here. Please, let me know how you thought I did. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I. You've been a pleasure.

**PS: **I would love any review you feel fit to give. Just please don't ruin the slight twist that happens at the end to anyone that hasn't read the story. Thanks, guys. -TU


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